A  SON 

OF  THE  SUN 

BY 
JACK  LONDON 


AUTHOR  OF 

*'THE  CALL  OP  THE  WILD,"  "  THE  SEA  WOLF,"  "MARTIN  EDEN," 
"  THE  GOD  OF  HIS  FATHERS,"  ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY 
A.  0.  FISCHER  AND  C.  W.  ASHLEY 


GARDEN  CITY       NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1912 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING    THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


COPYRIGHT,  IQII,  BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  I9I2,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE   &  COMPANY 


"It  was  a  leaky  and  abandoned  dugout,  and  he 
paddled  slowly  " 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 3 

-IF— -$r 

II.  THE  PKOUD  GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBUBN    .    43 

III.  THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO 82 

IV .  THE  JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON 137 

V.  A  LITTLE  ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL  .     .  167 

VI.  A  GOBOTO  NIGHT 204 

VII.  THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN 237 

VIII.  THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY  .  .  282 


259518 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"It  was  a  leaky  and  abandoned  dugout,  and  he  paddled 
slowly" Frontispiece 

FACING 
J  PAGE 

"Ten  hours   a    day    Aloysius    Pankburn    pounded 
chain  rust'* 68 

"From  the  colour  in  her  cheeks,   Grief  concluded 
that  she  had  not  been  long  in  the  tropics"    .    .    .  184 

"The  sand  shook  under  their  feet  with  each  buffet 
of  the  sea  on  the  outer  shore"  .  308 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 


Chapter  One 
A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 


The  Willi-Waw  lay  in  the  passage  between 
the  shore-reef  and  the  outer-reef.  From  the 
latter  came  the  low  murmur  of  a  lazy  surf,  but 
the  sheltered  stretch  of  water,  not  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  across  to  the  white  beach  of 
pounded  coral  sand,  was  of  glass-like  smooth 
ness.  Narrow  as  was  the  passage,  and  anchored 
as  she  was  in  the  shoalest  place  that  gave  room 
to  swing,  the  Willi-Waufs  chain  rode  up-and- 
down  a  clean  hundred  feet.  Its  course  could  be 
traced  over  the  bottom  of  living  coral.  Like 
some  monstrous  snake,  the  rusty  chain's  slack 
wandered  over  the  ocean  floor,  crossing  and 
recrossing  itself  several  times  and  fetching  up 
finally  at  the  idle  anchor.  Big  rock-cod,  dun 
and  mottled,  played  warily  in  and  out  of  the 


4  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

coral.  Other  fish,  grotesque  of  form  and  colour, 
were  brazenly  indifferent,  even  when  a  big 
fish-shark  drifted  sluggishly  along  and  sent  the 
rock-cod  scuttling  for  their  favourite  crevices. 

On  deck,  for'ard,  a  dozen  blacks  pottered 
clumsily  at  scraping  the  teak  rail.  They  were 
as  inexpert  at  their  work  as  so  many  monkeys. 
In  fact  they  looked  very  much  like  monkeys  of 
some  enlarged  and  prehistoric  type.  Their  eyes 
had  in  them  the  querulous  plaintiveness  of  the 
monkey,  their  faces  were  even  less  symmetrical 
than  the  monkey's,  and,  hairless  of  body,  they 
were  far  more  ungarmented  than  any  monkey, 
for  clothes  they  had  none.  Decorated  they  were 
as  no  monkey  ever  was.  In  holes  in  their  ears 
they  carried  short  clay  pipes,  rings  of  turtle 
shell,  huge  plugs  of  wood,  rusty  wire  nails,  and 
empty  rifle  cartridges.  The  calibre  of  a  Win 
chester  rifle  was  the  smallest  hole  an  ear  bore; 
some  of  the  largest  holes  were  inches  in  diameter, 
and  any  single  ear  averaged  from  three  to  half 
a  dozen  holes.  Spikes  and  bodkins  of  polished 
bone  or  petrified  shell  were  thrust  through  their 
noses.  On  the  chest  of  one  hung  a  white  door- 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  5 

knob,  on  the  chest  of  another  the  handle  of  a 
china  cup,  on  the  chest  of  a  third  the  brass  cog 
wheel  of  an  alarm  clock.  They  chattered  in 
queer,  falsetto  voices,  and,  combined,  did  no 
more  work  than  a  single  white  sailor. 

Aft,  under  an  awning,  were  two  white  men. 
Each  was  clad  in  a  six-penny  undershirt  and 
wrapped  about  the  loins  with  a  strip  of  cloth. 
Belted  about  the  middle  of  each  was  a  revolver 
and  tobacco  pouch.  The  sweat  stood  out  on 
their  skin  in  myriads  of  globules.  Here  and 
there  the  globules  coalesced  in  tiny  streams  that 
dripped  to  the  heated  deck  and  almost  imme 
diately  evaporated.  The  lean,  dark-eyed  man 
wiped  his  fingers  wet  with  a  stinging  stream  from 
his  forehead  and  flung  it  from  him  with  a  weary 
curse.  Wearily,  and  without  hope,  he  gazed 
seaward  across  the  outer-reef,  and  at  the  tops 
of  the  palms  along  the  beach. 

"Eight  o'clock,  an'  hell  don't  get  hot  till 
noon,"  he  complained.  "Wisht  to  God  for  a 
breeze.  Ain't  we  never  goin'  to  get  away?" 

The  other  man,  a  slender  German  of  five  and 
twenty,  with  the  massive  forehead  of  a  scholar 


6  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  the  tumble-home  chin  of  a  degenerate,  did 
not  trouble  to  reply.  He  was  busy  emptying 
powdered  quinine  into  a  cigarette  paper.  Roll 
ing  what  was  approximately  fifty  grains  of  the 
drug  into  a  tight  wad,  he  tossed  it  into  his  mouth 
and  gulped  it  down  without  the  aid  of  water. 

"Wishtlhad  some  whiskey,"  the  first  man 
panted,  after  a  fifteen-minute  interval  of  si 
lence. 

Another  equal  period  elapsed  ere  the  German 
enounced,  relevant  of  nothing: 

"I'm  rotten  with  fever.  I'm  going  to  quit 
you,  Griffiths,  when  we  get  to  Sydney.  No 
more  tropics  for  me.  I  ought  to  known  better 
when  I  signed  on  with  you." 

"You  ain't  been  much  of  a  mate,"  Griffiths 
replied,  too  hot  himself  to  speak  heatedly. 
"When  the  beach  at  Guvutu  heard  I'd  shipped 
you,  they  all  laughed.  'What?  Jacobsen?' 
they  said.  'You  can't  hide  a  square  face  of 
trade  gin  or  sulphuric  acid  that  he  won't  smell 
out ! '  You've  certainly  lived  up  to  your  reputa 
tion.  I  ain't  had  a  drink  for  a  fortnight,  what 
of  your  snoopin*  my  supply." 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  7 

"If  the  fever  was  as  rotten  in  you  as  me,  you'd 
understand,"  the  mate  whimpered. 

"I  ain't  kickin',"  Griffiths  answered.  "I 
only  wisht  God'd  send  me  a  drink,  or  a  breeze 
of  wind,  or  something.  I'm  ripe  for  my  next 
chill  to-morrow." 

The  mate  proffered  him  the  quinine.  Rolling 
a  fifty-grain  dose,  he  popped  the  wad  into  his 
mouth  and  swallowed  it  dry. 

"God!  God!"  he  moaned.  "I  dream  of  a 
land  somewheres  where  they  ain't  no  quinine. 
Damned  stuff  of  hell!  I've  scoffed  tons  of  it 
in  my  time." 

Again  he  quested  seaward  for  signs  of  wind. 
The  usual  trade-wind  clouds  were  absent,  and 
the  sun,  still  low  in  its  climb  to  meridian,  turned 
all  the  sky  to  heated  brass.  One  seemed  to  see 
as  well  as  feel  this  heat,  and  Griffiths  sought  vain 
relief  by  gazing  shoreward.  The  white  beach 
was  a  searing  ache  to  his  eyeballs.  The  palm 
trees,  absolutely  still,  outlined  flatly  against  the 
unrefreshing  green  of  the  packed  jungle,  seemed 
so  much  cardboard  scenery.  The  little  black 
boys,  playing  naked  in  the  dazzle  of  sand  and 


8  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

sun,  were  an  affront  and  a  hurt  to  the  sun-sick 
man.  He  felt  a  sort  of  relief  when  one,  running, 
tripped  and  fell  on  all-fours  in  the  tepid  sea-water. 

An  exclamation  from  the  blacks  for'ard  sent 
both  men  glancing  seaward.  Around  the  near 
point  of  land,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  and 
skirting  the  reef,  a  long  black  canoe  paddled 
into  sight. 

"Gooma  boys  from  the  next  bight,"  was  the 
mate's  verdict. 

One  of  the  blacks  came  aft,  treading  the  hot 
deck  with  the  unconcern  of  one  whose  bare  feet 
felt  no  heat.  This,  too,  was  a  hurt  to  Griffiths, 
and  he  closed  his  eyes.  But  the  next  moment 
they  were  open  wide. 

"White  fella  marster  stop  along  Gooma  boy," 
the  black  said. 

Both  men  were  on  their  feet  and  gazing  at  the 
canoe.  Aft  could  be  seen  the  unmistakable 
sombrero  of  a  white  man.  Quick  alarm  showed 
itself  on  the  face  of  the  mate. 

"It's  Grief,"  he  said. 

Griffiths  satisfied  himself  by  a  long  look,  then 
ripped  out  a  wrathful  oath. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  9 

"What'i  he  doing  up  here?"  he  demanded 

.  .  of  the  mate,  of  the  aching  sea  and  sky, 
of  the  merciless  blaze  of  sun,  and  of  the  whole 
superheated  and  implacable  universe  with  which 
his  fate  was  entangled. 

The  mate  began  to  chuckle. 

"I  told  you  you  couldn't  get  away  with  it," 
he  said. 

But  Griffiths  was  not  listening. 

"With  all  his  money,  coming  around  like  a 
rent  collector,"  he  chanted  his  outrage,  almost 
in  an  ecstasy  of  anger.  "He's  loaded  with 
money,  he's  stuffed  with  money,  he's  busting 
with  money.  I  know  for  a  fact  he  sold  his 
Yringa  plantations  for  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds.  Bell  told  me  so  himself  last  time 
we  were  drunk  at  Guvutu.  Worth  millions 
and  millions,  and  Shylocking  me  for  what  he 
wouldn't  light  his  pipe  with."  He  whirled  on 
the  mate.  "Of  course  you  told  me  so.  Go  on 
and  say  it,  and  keep  on  saying  it.  Now  just 
what  was  it  you  did  tell  me  so?" 

"I  told  you  you  didn't  know  him,  if  you 
thought  you  could  clear  the  Solomons  without 


10  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

paying  him.  That  man  Grief  is  a  devil,  but  he's 
straight.  I  know.  I  told  you  he'd  throw  a 
thousand  quid  away  for  the  fun  of  it,  and  for 
sixpence  fight  like  a  shark  for  a  rusty  tin.  I 
tell  you  I  know.  Didn't  he  give  his  Balakula 
to  the  Queensland  Mission  when  they  lost  their 
Evening  Star  on  San  Cristobal?  —  and  the 
Balakula  worth  three  thousand  pounds  if 
she  was  worth  a  penny?  And  didn't  he 
beat  up  Strothers  till  he  lay  abed  a  fort 
night,  all  because  of  a  difference  of  two  pound 
ten  in  the  account,  and  because  Strothers 
got  fresh  and  tried  to  make  the  gouge  go 
through?" 

"God  strike  me  blind!"  Griffiths  cried  in  im- 
potency  of  rage. 

The  mate  went  on  with  his  exposition. 

"I  tell  you  only  a  straight  man  can  buck  a 
straight  man  like  him,  and  the  man's  never  hit 
the  Solomons  that  could  do  it.  Men  like  you 
and  me  can't  buck  him.  We're  too  rotten,  too 
rotten  all  the  way  through.  You've  got  plenty 
more  than  twelve  hundred  quid  below.  Pay 
him,  and  get  it  over  with." 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  11 

But  Griffiths  gritted  his  teeth  and  drew  his 
thin  lips  tightly  across  them. 

"I'll  buck  him,"  he  muttered  —  more  to 
himself  and  the  brazen  ball  of  sun  than  to  the 
mate.  He  turned  and  half  started  to  go  below, 
then  turned  back  again.  "Look  here,  Jacob- 
sen.  He  won't  be  here  for  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Are  you  with  me?  Will  you  stand  by  me?" 

"Of  course  I'll  stand  by  you.  I've  drunk  all 
your  whiskey,  haven't  I?  What  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  kill  him  if  I  can  help  it. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  pay.  Take  that  flat." 

Jacobsen  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  calm  ac 
quiescence  to  fate,  and  Griffiths  stepped  to  the 
companionway  and  went  below. 

II 

Jacobsen  watched  the  canoe  across  the  low 
reef  as  it  came  abreast  and  passed  on  to  the 
entrance  of  the  passage.  Griffiths,  with  ink- 
marks  on  right  thumb  and  forefinger,  returned 
on  deck  Fifteen  minutes  later  the  canoe  came 
alongside.  The  man  with  the  sombrero  stood  up. 


12  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Hello,  Griffiths!"  he  said.  "Hello,  Jacob- 
sen  !"  With  his  hand  on  the  rail  he  turned  to 
his  dusky  crew.  "You  fella  boy  stop  along 
canoe  altogether." 

As  he  swung  over  the  rail  and  stepped  on  deck 
a  hint  of  catlike  litheness  showed  in  the  ap 
parently  heavy  body.  Like  the  other  two,  he 
was  scantily  clad.  The  cheap  undershirt  and 
white  loin-cloth  did  not  serve  to  hide  the  well 
put  up  body.  Heavy  muscled  he  was,  but  he 
was  not  lumped  and  hummocked  by  muscles. 
They  were  softly  rounded,  and,  when  they  did 
move,  slid  softly  and  silkily  under  the  smooth, 
tanned  skin.  Ardent  suns  had  likewise  tanned 
his  face  till  it  was  swarthy  as  a  Spaniard's.  The 
yellow  mustache  appeared  incongruous  in  the 
midst  of  such  swarthiness,  while  the  clear  blue 
of  the  eyes  produced  a  feeling  of  shock  on  the 
beholder.  It  was  difficult  to  realize  that  the 
skin  of  this  man  had  once  been  fair. 

"Where  did  you  blow  in  from?"  Griffiths 
asked,  as  they  shook  hands.  "I  thought  you 
were  over  in  the  Santa  Cruz." 

"I  was,"  the  newcomer  answered.     "But  we 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  IS 

made  a  quick  passage.  The  Wonder's  just 
around  in  the  bight  at  Gooma,  waiting  for  wind. 
Some  of  the  bushmen  reported  a  ketch  here, 
and  I  just  dropped  around  to  see.  Well,  how 
goes  it?" 

"Nothing  much.  Copra  sheds  mostly  empty, 
and  not  half  a  dozen  tons  of  ivory  nuts.  The 
women  all  got  rotten  with  fever  and  quit, 
and  the  men  can't  chase  them  back  into  the 
swamps.  They're  a  sick  crowd.  I'd  ask  you 
to  have  a  drink,  but  the  mate  finished  off 
my  last  bottle.  I  wisht  to  God  for  a  breeze  of 
wind." 

Grief,  glancing  with  keen  carelessness  from  one 
to  the  other,  laughed. 

"I'm  glad  the  calm  held,"  he  said.  "It  en 
abled  me  to  get  around  to  see  you.  My  super 
cargo  dug  up  that  little  note  of  yours,  and  I 
brought  it  along." 

The  mate  edged  politely  away,  leaving  his 
skipper  to  face  his  trouble. 

"I'm  sorry,  Grief,  damned  sorry,"  Griffiths 
said,  "but  I  ain't  got  it.  You'll  have  to  give 
me  a  little  more  time." 


14  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Grief  leaned  up  against  the  companionway, 
surprise  and  pain  depicted  on  his  face. 

"It  does  beat  hell,"  he  communed,  "how  men 
learn  to  lie  in  the  Solomons.  The  truth's  not 
in  them.  Now  take  Captain  Jensen.  I'd  sworn 
by  his  truthfulness.  Why,  he  told  me  only  five 
days  ago  —  do  you  want  to  know  what  he  told 
me?" 

Griffiths  licked  his  lips. 

"Go  on." 

"Why,  he  told  me  that  you'd  sold  'out  —  sold 
out  everything,  cleaned  up,  and  was  pulling  out 
for  the  New  Hebrides." 

"He's  a  damned  liar!"    Griffiths  cried  hotly. 

Grief  nodded. 

"I  should  say  so.  He  even  had  the  nerve  to 
tell  me  that  he'd  bought  two  of  your  stations 
from  you  —  Mauri  and  Kahula.  Said  he  paid 
you  seventeen  hundred  gold  sovereigns,  lock, 
stock  and  barrel,  good  will,  trade-goods,  credit, 
and  copra." 

.  Griffiths's  eyes  narrowed  and  glinted.  The 
action  was  involuntary,  and  Grief  noted  it  with 
a  lazy  sweep  of  his  eyes. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  15 

"And  Parsons,  your  trader  at  Hickimavi, 
told  me  that  the  Fulcrum  Company  had  bought 
that  station  from  you.  Now  what  did  he  want 
to  lie  for?" 

Griffiths,  overwrought  by  sun  and  sickness, 
exploded.  All  his  bitterness  of  spirit  rose 
up  in  his  face  and  twisted  his  mouth  into  a 
snarl. 

"Look  here,  Grief,  what's  the  good  of  playing 
with  me  that  way?  You  know,  and  I  know  you 
know.  Let  it  go  at  that.  I  have  sold  out,  and 
I  am  getting  away.  And  what  are  you  going 
to  do  about  it?" 

Grief  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  no  hint  of 
resolve  shadowed  itself  in  his  own  face.  His 
expression  was  as  of  one  in  a  quandary. 

"There's  no  law  here,"  Griffiths  pressed  home 
his  advantage.  "Tulagi  is  a  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  away.  I've  got  my  clearance  papers,  and 
I'm  on  my  own  boat.  There's  nothing  to  stop 
me  from  sailing.  You've  got  no  right  to  stop 
me  just  because  I  owe  you  a  little  money.  And 
by  God!  you  can't  stop  me.  Put  that  in  your 
pipe." 


16  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

The  look  of  pained  surprise  on  Grief's  face 
deepened. 

"You  mean  you're  going  to  cheat  me  out  of 
that  twelve  hundred,  Griffiths?" 

"That's  just  about  the  size  of  it,  old  man. 
And  calling  hard  names  won't  help  any.  There's 
the  wind  coming.  You'd  better  get  overside 
before  I  pull  out,  or  I'll  tow  your  canoe 
under." 

"Really,  Griffiths,  you  sound  almost  right.  I 
can't  stop  you."  Grief  fumbled  in  the  pouch 
that  hung  on  his  revolver-belt  and  pulled  out 
a  crumpled  official-looking  paper.  "But  may 
be  this  will  stop  you.  And  it's  something  for 
your  pipe.  Smoke  up." 

"What  is  it?" 

"An  admiralty  warrant.  Running  to  the  New 
Hebrides  won't  save  you.  It  can  be  served 
anywhere." 

Griffiths  hesitated  and  swallowed,  when  he 
had  finished  glancing  at  the  document.  With 
knit  brows  he  pondered  this  new  phase  of  the 
situation.  Then,  abruptly,  as  he  looked  up, 
his  face  relaxed  into  all  frankness. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  17 

"You  were  cleverer  than  I  thought,  old  man," 
he  said.  "You've  got  me  hip  and  thigh.  I 
ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  try  and  beat 
you.  Jacobsen  told  me  I  couldn't,  and  I 
wouldn't  listen  to  him.  But  he  was  right,  and 
so  are  you.  I've  got  the  money  below.  Come 
on  down  and  we'll  settle.'* 

He  started  to  go  down,  then  stepped  aside  to 
let  his  visitor  precede  him,  at  the  same  time 
glancing  seaward  to  where  the  dark  flaw  of  wind 
was  quickening  the  water. 

"Heave  short,"  he  told  the  mate.  "Get  up 
sail  and  stand  ready  to  break  out." 

As  Grief  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  mate's 
bunk,  close  against  and  facing  the  tiny  table, 
he  noticed  the  butt  of  a  revolver  just  projecting 
from  under  the  pillow.  On  the  table,  which  hung 
on  hinges  from  the  for'ard  bulkhead,  were  pen 
and  ink,  also  a  battered  log-book. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  being  caught  in  a  dirty 
trick,"  Griffiths  was  saying  defiantly.  "I've 
been  in  the  tropics  too  long.  I'm  a  sick  man,  a 
damn  sick  man.  And  the  whiskey,  and  the  sun, 
and  the  fever  have  made  me  sick  in  morals,  too. 


18  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Nothing's  too  mean  and  low  for  me  now,  and  I 
can  understand  why  the  niggers  eat  each  other, 
and  take  heads,  and  such  things.  I  could  do  it 
myself.  So  I  call  trying  to  do  you  out  of  that 
small  account  a  pretty  mild  trick.  Wisht  I 
could  offer  you  a  drink." 

Grief  made  no  reply,  and  the  other  busied 
himself  in  attempting  to  unlock  a  large  and 
much-dented  cash-box.  From  on  deck  came 
falsetto  cries  and  the  creak  and  rattle  of  blocks 
as  the  black  crew  swung  up  mainsail  and  driver. 
Grief  watched  a  large  cockroach  crawling  over 
the  greasy  paintwork.  Griffiths,  with  an  oath 
of  irritation,  carried  the  cash-box  to  the  com 
panion-steps  for  better  light.  Here,  on  his  feet, 
and  bending  over  the  box,  his  back  to  his  visitor, 
his  hands  shot  out  to  the  rifle  that  stood  beside 
the  steps,  and  at  the  same  moment  he  whirled 
about. 

"Now  don't  you  move  a  muscle,"  he  com 
manded. 

Grief  smiled,  elevated  his  eyebrows  quizz 
ically,  and  obeyed.  His  left  hand  rested  on  the 
bunk  beside  him;  his  right  hand  lay  on  the  table. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  19 

His  revolver  hung  on  his  right  hip  in  plain  sight. 
But  in  his  mind  was  recollection  of  the  other 
revolver  under  the  pillow. 

"  Huh ! "  Griffiths  sneered.  "  You've  got  every 
body  in  the  Solomons  hypnotized,  but  let  me 
tell  you  you  ain't  got  me.  Now  I'm  going  to 
throw  you  off  my  vessel,  along  with  your  admi 
ralty  warrant,  but  first  you've  got  to  do  some 
thing.  Lift  up  that  log-book." 

The  other  glanced  curiously  at  the  log-book, 
but  did  not  move. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  a  sick  man,  Grief;  and  I'd  as 
soon  shoot  you  as  smash  a  cockroach.  Lift  up 
that  log-book,  I  say." 

Sick  he  did  look,  his  lean  face  working  ner 
vously  with  the  rage  that  possessed  him.  Grief 
lifted  the  book  and  set  it  aside.  Beneath  lay 
a  written  sheet  of  tablet  paper. 

"Read  it,"  Griffiths  commanded.  "Read  it 
aloud." 

Grief  obeyed;  but  while  he  read,  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand  began  an  infinitely  slow  and  patient 
crawl  toward  the  butt  of  the  weapon  under  the 
pillow. 


20  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"On  board  the  ketch  Willi-Waw,  Bombi  Bight, 
Island  of  Anna,  Solomon  Islands"  he  read. 
''Know  all  men  by  these  presents  that  I  do  hereby 
sign  of  and  release  in  full,  for  due  value  received, 
all  debts  whatsoever  owing  to  me  by  Harrison  J. 
Griffiths,  who  has  this  day  paid  to  me  twelve 
hundred  pounds  sterling" 

"With  that  receipt  in  my  hands,"  Griffiths 
grinned,  "your  admiralty  warrant's  not  worth 
the  paper  it's  written  on.  Sign  it.'* 

"It  won't  do  any  good,  Griffiths,"  Grief  said. 
"A  document  signed  under  compulsion  won't 
hold  before  the  law." 

"In  that  case,  what  objection  have  you  to 
signing  it  then?" 

"Oh,  none  at  all,  only  that  I  might  save  you 
heaps  of  trouble  by  not  signing  it." 

Grief's  fingers  had  gained  the  revolver,  and, 
while  he  talked,  with  his  right  hand  he  played 
with  the  pen  and  with  his  left  began  slowly  and 
imperceptibly  drawing  the  weapon  to  his  side. 
As  his  hand  finally  closed  upon  it,  second  finger 
on  trigger  and  forefinger  laid  past  the  cylinder 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  21 

and  along  the  barrel,  he  wondered  what  luck 
he  would  have  at  left-handed  snap-shooting. 

"Don't  consider  me,"  Griffiths  gibed.  "And 
just  remember  Jacobsen  will  testify  that  he  saw 
me  pay  the  money  over.  Now  sign,  sign  in 
full,  at  the  bottom,  David  Grief,  and  date  it." 

From  on  deck  came  the  jar  of  sheet-blocks 
and  the  rat-tat-tat  of  the  reef-points  against 
the  canvas.  In  the  cabin  they  could  feel  the 
Willi-Waw  heel,  swing  into  the  wind,  and  right. 
David  Grief  still  hesitated.  From  for'ard  came 
the  jerking  rattle  of  headsail  halyards  through 
the  sheaves.  The  little  vessel  heeled,  and 
through  the  cabin  walls  came  the  gurgle  and 
wash  of  water. 

"Get  a  move  on!"  Griffiths  cried.  "The 
anchor's  out." 

The  muzzle  of  the  rifle,  four  feet  away,  was 
bearing  directly  on  him,  when  Grief  resolved  to 
act.  The  rifle  wavered  as  Griffiths  kept  his 
balance  in  the  uncertain  puffs  of  the  first  of  the 
wind.  Grief  took  advantage  of  the  wavering, 
made  as  if  to  sign  the  paper,  and  at  the  same 
instant,  like  a  cat,  exploded  into  swift  and  in- 


22  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

tricate  action.  As  he  ducked  low  and  leaped 
forward  with  his  body,  his  left  hand  flashed  from 
under  the  screen  of  the  table,  and  so  accurately 
timed  was  the  single  stiff  pull  on  the  self -cocking 
trigger  that  the  cartridge  discharged  as  the 
muzzle  came  forward.  Not  a  whit  behind  was 
Griffiths.  The  muzzle  of  his  weapon  dropped  to 
meet  the  ducking  body,  and,  shot  at  snap  direc 
tion,  rifle  and  revolver  went  off  simultaneously. 

Grief  felt  the  sting  and  sear  of  a  bullet  across 
the  skin  of  his  shoulder,  and  knew  that  his  own 
shot  had  missed.  His  forward  rush  carried  him 
to  Griffiths  before  another  shot  could  be  fired, 
both  of  whose  arms,  still  holding  the  rifle,  he 
locked  with  a  low  tackle  about  the  body.  He 
shoved  the  revolver  muzzle,  still  in  his  left 
hand,  deep  into  the  other's  abdomen.  Under 
the  press  of  his  anger  and  the  sting  of  his 
abraded  skin,  Grief's  finger  was  lifting  the 
hammer,  when  the  wave  of  anger  passed  and 
he  recollected  himself.  Down  the  companion- 
way  came  indignant  cries  from  the  Gooma 
boys  in  his  canoe. 

Everything  was  happening  in  seconds.     There 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  23 

was  apparently  no  pause  in  his  actions  as  he 
gathered  Griffiths  in  his  arms  and  carried  him 
up  the  steep  steps  in  a  sweeping  rush.  Out  into 
the  blinding  glare  of  sunshine  he  came.  A  black 
stood  grinning  at  the  wheel,  and  the  Willi-Wawy 
heeled  over  from  the  wind,  was  foaming  along. 
Rapidly  dropping  astern  was  his  Gooma  canoe. 
Grief  turned  his  head.  From  amidships,  re 
volver  in  hand,  the  mate  was  springing  toward 
him.  With  two  jumps,  still  holding  the  help 
less  Griffiths,  Grief  leaped  to  the  rail  and 
overboard. 

Both  men  were  grappled  together  as  they  went 
down;  but  Grief,  with  a  quick  updraw  of  his 
knees  to  the  other's  chest,  broke  the  grip  and 
forced  him  down.  With  both  feet  on  Griffiths's 
shoulder,  he  forced  him  still  deeper,  at  the  same 
time  driving  himself  to  the  surface.  Scarcely 
had  his  head  broken  into  the  sunshine  when  two 
splashes  of  water,  in  quick  succession  and  with 
in  a  foot  of  his  face,  advertised  that  Jacobsen 
knew  how  to  handle  a  revolver.  There  was  a 
chance  for  no  third  shot,  for  Grief,  filling  his 
lungs  with  air,  sank  down.  Under  water  he 


24  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

struck  out,  nor  did  he  come  up  till  he  saw  the 
canoe  and  the  bubbling  paddles  overhead.  As 
he  climbed  aboard,  the  Willi-Waw  went  into 
the  wind  to  come  about. 

"Washee-washee!"  Grief  cried  to  his  boys. 
"You  fella  make-urn  beach  quick  fella  time!" 

In  all  shamelessness,  he  turned  his  back  on 
the  battle  and  ran  for  cover.  The  Willi-Waw, 
compelled  to  deaden  way  in  order  to  pick  up 
its  captain,  gave  Grief  his  chance  for  a  lead. 
The  canoe  struck  the  beach  full-tilt,  with  every 
paddle  driving,  and  they  leaped  out  and  ran 
across  the  sand  for  the  trees.  But  before  they 
gained  the  shelter,  three  times  the  sand  kicked 
into  puffs  ahead  of  them.  Then  they  dove  into 
the  green  safety  of  the  jungle. 

Grief  watched  the  Willi-Waw  haul  up  close, 
go  out  the  passage,  then  slack  its  sheets  as  it 
headed  south  with  the  wind  abeam.  As  it  went 
out  of  sight  past  the  point  he  could  see  the  top 
sail  being  broken  out.  One  of  the  Gooma  boys, 
a  black,  nearly  fifty  years  of  age,  hideously 
marred  and  scarred  by  skin  diseases  and  old 
wounds,  looked  up  into  his  face  and  grinned. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  25 

"My  word,"  the  boy  commented,  "that  fella 
skipper  too  much  cross  along  you." 

Grief  laughed,  and  led  the  way  back  across 
the  sand  to  the  canoe. 

Ill 

How  many  millions  David  Grief  was  worth 
no  man  in  the  Solomons  knew,  for  his  holdings 
and  ventures  were  everywhere  in  the  great 
South  Pacific.  From  Samoa  to  New  Guinea 
and  even  to  the  north  of  the  Line  his  plantations 
were  scattered.  He  possessed  pearling  conces 
sions  in  the  Paumotus.  Though  his  name  did 
not  appear,  he  was  in  truth  the  German  company 
that  traded  in  the  French  Marquesas.  His 
trading  stations  were  in  strings  in  all  the  groups, 
and  his  vessels  that  operated  them  were  many. 
He  owned  atolls  so  remote  and  tiny  that  his 
smallest  schooners  and  ketches  visited  the  sol 
itary  agents  but  once  a  year. 

In  Sydney,  on  Castlereagh  Street,  his  offices 
occupied  three  floors.  But  he  was  rarely  in 
those  offices.  He  preferred  always  to  be  on  the 
go  amongst  the  islands,  nosing  out  new  invest- 


26  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

merits,  inspecting  and  shaking  up  old  ones,  and 
rubbing  shoulders  with  fun  and  adventure  in  a 
thousand  strange  guises.  He  bought  the  wreck 
of  the  great  steamship  Gavonne  for  a  song,  and 
in  salving  it  achieved  the  impossible  and  cleaned 
up  a  quarter  of  a  million.  In  the  Louisiades 
he  planted  the  first  commercial  rubber,  and  in 
Bora-Bora  he  ripped  out  the  South  Sea  cotton 
and  put  the  jolly  islanders  at  the  work  of  plant 
ing  cacao.  It  was  he  who  took  the  deserted 
island  of  Lallu-Ka,  colonized  it  with  Polynesians 
from  the  Ontong-Java  Atoll,  and  planted  four 
thousand  acres  to  cocoanuts.  And  it  was  he 
who  reconciled  the  warring  chief -stocks  of  Tahiti 
and  swung  the  great  deal  of  the  phosphate  island 
of  Hikihu. 

His  own  vessels  recruited  his  contract  labour. 
They  brought  Santa  Cruz  boys  to  the  New 
Hebrides,  New  Hebrides  boys  to  the  Banks,  and 
the  head-hunting  cannibals  of  Malaita  to  the 
plantations  of  New  Georgia.  From  Tonga  to 
the  Gilberts  and  on  to  the  far  Louisiades  his 
recruiters  combed  the  islands  for  labour.  His 
keels  plowed  all  ocean  stretches.  He  owned 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  27 

three  steamers  on  regular  island  runs,  though  he 
rarely  elected  to  travel  in  them,  preferring  the 
wilder  and  more  primitive  way  of  wind  and  sail. 

At  least  forty  years  of  age,  he  looked  no  more 
than  thirty.  Yet  beachcombers  remembered 
his  advent  among  the  islands  a  score  of  years 
before,  at  which  time  the  yellow  mustache  was 
already  budding  silkily  on  his  lip.  Unlike  other 
white  men  in  the  tropics,  he  was  there  because 
he  liked  it.  His  protective  skin  pigmentation 
was  excellent.  He  had  been  born  to  the  sun. 
One  he  was  in  ten  thousand  in  the  matter  of 
sun-resistance.  The  invisible  and  high-velocity 
light  waves  failed  to  bore  into  him.  Other  white 
men  were  pervious.  The  sun  drove  through 
their  skins,  ripping  and  smashing  tissues  and 
nerves,  till  they  became  sick  in  mind  and  body, 
tossed  most  of  the  Decalogue  overboard,  de 
scended  to  beastliness,  drank  themselves  into 
quick  graves,  or  survived  so  savagely  that  war 
vessels  were  sometimes  sent  to  curb  their  license. 

But  David  Grief  was  a  true  son  of  the  sun,  and 
he  flourished  in  all  its  ways.  He  merely  became 
browner  with  the  passing  of  the  years,  though 


28  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

in  the  brown  was  the  hint  of  golden  tint  that 
glows  in  the  skin  of  the  Polynesian.  Yet  his 
blue  eyes  retained  their  blue,  his  mustache  its 
yellow,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  were  those  which 
had  persisted  through  the  centuries  in  his  Eng 
lish  race.  English  he  was  in  blood,  yet  those 
that  thought  they  knew  contended  he  was  at 
least  American  born.  Unlike  them,  he  had  not 
come  out  to  the  South  Seas  seeking  hearth  and 
saddle  of  his  own.  In  fact,  he  had  brought 
hearth  and  saddle  with  him.  His  advent  had 
been  in  the  Paumotus.  He  arrived  on  board  a 
tiny  schooner  yacht,  master  and  owner,  a  youth 
questing  romance  and  adventure  along  the  sun- 
washed  path  of  the  tropics.  He  also  arrived  in 
a  hurricane,  the  giant  waves  of  which  deposited 
him  and  yacht  and  all  in  the  thick  of  a  cocoanut 
grove  three  hundred  yards  beyond  the  surf. 
Six  months  later  he  was  rescued  by  a  pearling 
cutter.  But  the  sun  had  got  into  his  blood. 
At  Tahiti,  instead  of  taking  a  steamer  home,  he 
bought  a  schooner,  outfitted  her  with  trade- 
goods  and  divers,  and  went  for  a  cruise  through 
the  Dangerous  Archipelago. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  29 

As  the  golden  tint  burned  into  his  face  it 
poured  molten  out  of  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 
His  was  the  golden  touch,  but  he  played  the 
game,  not  for  the  gold,  but  for  the  game's  sake. 
It  was  a  man's  game,  the  rough  contacts  and 
fierce  give  and  take  of  the  adventurers  of  his 
owrn  blood  and  of  half  the  bloods  of  Europe  and 
the  rest  of  the  world,  and  it  was  a  good  game; 
but  over  and  beyond  was  his  love  of  all  the  other 
things  that  go  to  make  up  a  South  Seas  rover's 
life  —  the  smell  of  the  reef;  the  infinite  exqui- 
siteness  of  the  shoals  of  living  coral  in  the  mirror- 
surfaced  lagoons;  the  crashing  sunrises  of  raw 
colours  spread  with  lawless  cunning;  the  palm- 
tufted  islets  set  in  turquoise  deeps;  the  tonic 
wine  of  the  trade- winds;  the  heave  and  send  of 
the  orderly,  crested  seas;  the  moving  deck  be 
neath  his  feet,  the  straining  canvas  overhead; 
the  flower-garlanded,  golden-glowing  men  and 
maids  of  Polynesia,  half -children  and  half -gods; 
and  even  the  howling  savages  of  Melanesia, 
head-hunters  and  man-eaters,  half-devil  and 
all  beast. 

And  so,  favoured  child  of  the  sun,  out  of 


30  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

munificence  of  energy  and  sheer  joy  of  living, 
he,  the  man  of  many  millions,  forbore  on  his 
far  way  to  play  the  game  with  Harrison  J. 
Griffiths  for  a  paltry  sum.  It  was  his  whim, 
his  desire,  his  expression  of  self  and  of  the  sun- 
warmth  that  poured  through  him.  It  was  fun, 
a  joke,  a  problem,  a  bit  of  play  on  which  life 
was  lightly  hazarded  for  the  joy  of  the  playing. 

IV 

The  early  morning  found  the  Wonder  laying 
close-hauled  along  the  coast  of  Guadalcanar. 
She  moved  lazily  through  the  water  under  the 
dying  breath  of  the  land  breeze.  To  the  east, 
heavy  masses  of  clouds  promised  a  renewal  of 
the  southeast  trades,  accompanied  by  sharp 
puffs  and  rain  squalls.  Ahead,  laying  along  the 
coast  on  the  same  course  as  the  Wonder,  and 
being  slowly  overtaken,  was  a  small  ketch.  It 
was  not  the  Willi-Waw,  however,  and  Captain 
Ward,  on  the  Wonder,  putting  down  his  glasses, 
named  it  the  Kauri. 

Grief,  just  on  deck  from  below,  sighed  regret 
fully. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  31 

"If  it  had  only  been  the  Willi-Waw"  he 
said. 

"You  do  hate  to  be  beaten,"  Denby,  the  super 
cargo,  remarked  sympathetically. 

"I  certainly  do."  Grief  paused  and  laughed 
with  genuine  mirth.  "It's  my  firm  conviction 
that  Griffiths  is  a  rogue,  and  that  he  treated  me 
quite  scurvily  yesterday.  'Sign/  he  says,  'sign 
in  full,  at  the  bottom,  and  date  it.'  And  Jacob- 
sen,  the  little  rat,  stood  in  with  him.  It  was  rank 
piracy,  the  days  of  Bully  Hayes  all  over  again." 

"If  you  weren't  my  employer,  Mr.  Grief,  I'd 
like  to  give  you  a  piece  of  my  mind,"  Captain 
Ward  broke  in. 

"Go  on  and  spit  it  out,"  Grief  encouraged. 

"Well,  then "  The  captain  hesitated 

and  cleared  his  throat.  "With  all  the  money 
you've  got,  only  a  fool  would  take  the  risk  you 
did  with  those  two  curs.  What  do  you  do  it 
for?" 

"Honestly,  I  don't  know,  Captain.  I  just 
want  to,  I  suppose.  And  can  you  give  any  better 
reason  for  anything  you  do?" 

"You'll  get  your  bally  head  shot  off  some  fine 


32  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

day,"  Captain  Ward  growled  in  answer,  as  he 
stepped  to  the  binnacle  and  took  the  bearing  of 
a  peak  which  had  just  thrust  its  head  through 
the  clouds  that  covered  Guadalcanal 

The  land  breeze  strengthened  in  a  last  effort, 
and  the  Wonder,  slipping  swiftly  through  the 
water,  ranged  alongside  the  Kauri  and  began  to 
go  by.  Greetings  flew  back  and  forth,  then 
David  Grief  called  out: 

"Seen  anything  of  the  Willi-Waw?" 

The  captain,  slouch-hatted  and  barelegged, 
with  a  rolling  twist  hitched  the  faded  blue  lava- 
lava  tighter  around  his  waist  and  spat  tobacco 
juice  overside. 

"Sure,"  he  answered.  "Griffiths  lay  at  Savo 
last  night,  taking  on  pigs  and  yams  and  filling 
his  water-tanks.  Looked  like  he  was  going  for 
a  long  cruise,  but  he  said  no.  Why?  Did 
you  want  to  see  him?" 

"Yes;  but  if  you  see  him  first  don't  tell  him 
you've  seen  me." 

The  captain  nodded  and  considered,  and 
walked  for'ard  on  his  own  deck  to  keep  abreast 
of  the  faster  vessel. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  33 

"Say!"  he  called.  "Jacobsen  told  me  they 
were  coming  down  this  afternoon  to  Gabera. 
Said  they  were  going  to  lay  there  to-night  and 
take  on  sweet  potatoes." 

"Gabera  has  the  only  leading  lights  in  the 
Solomons,"  Grief  said,  when  his  schooner  had 
drawn  well  ahead.  "Is  that  right,  Captain 
Ward?" 

The  captain  nodded. 

"And  the  little  bight  just  around  the  point 
on  this  side,  it's  a  rotten  anchorage,  isn't  it?" 

"  No  anchorage.  All  coral  patches  and  shoals, 
and  a  bad  surf.  That's  where  the  Molly  went 
to  pieces  three  years  ago." 

Grief  stared  straight  before  him  with  lustre 
less  eyes  for  a  full  minute,  as  if  summoning  some 
vision  to  his  inner  sight.  Then  the  corners  of 
his  eyes  wrinkled  and  the  ends  of  his  yellow 
mustache  lifted  in  a  smile. 

"We'll  anchor  at  Gabera,"  he  said.  "And 
run  in  close  to  the  little  bight  this  side.  I  want 
you  to  drop  me  in  a  whaleboat  as  you  go  by. 
Also,  give  me  six  boys,  and  serve  out  rifles.  I'll 
be  back  on  board  before  morning." 


34  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

The  captain's  face  took  on  an  expression  of 
suspicion,  which  swiftly  slid  into  one  of  re 
proach. 

"Oh,  just  a  little  fun,  skipper,"  Grief  protested 
with  the  apologetic  air  of  a  schoolboy  caught  in 
mischief  by  an  elder. 

Captain  Ward  grunted,  but  Denby  was  all 
alertness. 

"I'd  like  to  go  along,  Mr.  Grief,"  he  said. 

Grief  nodded  consent. 

"Bring  some  axes  and  bush-knives,"  he  said. 
"And,  oh,  by  the  way,  a  couple  of  bright  lan 
terns.  See  they've  got  oil  in  them." 


An  hour  before  sunset  the  Wonder  tore  by 
the  little  bight.  The  wind  had  freshened,  and 
a  lively  sea  was  beginning  to  make.  The  shoals 
toward  the  beach  were  already  white  with  the 
churn  of  water,  while  those  farther  out  as  yet 
showed  no  more  sign  than  of  discoloured  water. 
As  the  schooner  went  into  the  wind  and  backed 
her  jib  and  staysail  the  whaleboat  was  swung 
out.  Into  it  leaped  six  breech-clouted  Santa 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  35 

Cruz  boys,  each  armed  with  a  rifle.  Denby, 
carrying  the  lanterns,  dropped  into  the  stern- 
sheets.  Grief,  following,  paused  on  the  rail. 

"Pray  for  a  dark  night,  skipper,"  he  pleaded. 

"You'll  get  it,"  Captain  Ward  answered. 
"There's  no  moon  anyway,  and  there  won't 
be  any  sky.  She'll  be  a  bit  squally,  too." 

The  forecast  sent  a  radiance  into  Grief's  face, 
making  more  pronounced  the  golden  tint  of  his 
sunburn.  He  leaped  down  beside  the  super 
cargo. 

"Cast  off!"  Captain  Ward  ordered.  "Draw 
the  headsails!  Put  your  wheel  over!  There! 
Steady !  Take  that  course ! " 

The  Wonder  filled  away  and  ran  on  around 
the  point  for  Gabera,  while  the  whaleboat, 
pulling  six  oars  and  steered  by  Grief,  headed 
for  the  beach.  With  superb  boatmanship  he 
threaded  the  narrow,  tortuous  channel  which 
no  craft  larger  than  a  whaleboat  could  negotiate, 
until  the  shoals  and  patches  showed  seaward 
and  they  grounded  on  the  quiet,  rippling 
beach. 

The  next  hour  was  filled  with  work.     Moving 


36  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

about  among  the  wild  cocoanuts  and  jungle 
brush,  Grief  selected  the  trees. 

"Chop  this  fella  tree;  chop  that  fella  tree," 
he  told  his  blacks.  "No  chop  that  other  fella," 
he  said,  with  a  shake  of  head. 

In  the  end,  a  wedge-shaped  segment  of  jungle 
was  cleared.  Near  to  the  beach  remained  one 
long  palm.  At  the  apex  of  the  wedge  stood 
another.  Darkness  was  falling  as  the  lanterns 
were  lighted,  carried  up  the  two  trees,  and  made 
fast. 

"That  outer  lantern  is  too  high."  David 
Grief  studied  it  critically.  "Put  it  down  about 
ten  feet,  Denby." 

VI 

The  Willi-Waw  was  tearing  through  the  water 
with  a  bone  in  her  teeth,  for  the  breath  of  the 
passing  squall  was  still  strong.  The  blacks 
were  swinging  up  the  big  mainsail,  which  had 
been  lowered  on  the  run  when  the  puff  was  at 
its  height.  Jacobsen,  superintending  the  opera 
tion,  ordered  them  to  throw  the  halyards  down 
on  deck  and  stand  by,  then  went  for'ard  on  the 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  37 

lee-bow  and  joined  Griffiths.  Both  men  stared 
with  wide-strained  eyes  at  the  blank  wall  of 
darkness  through  which  they  were  flying,  their 
ears  tense  for  the  sound  of  surf  on  the  invisible 
shore.  It  was  by  this  sound  that  they  were  for 
the  moment  steering. 

The  wind  fell  lighter,  the  scud  of  clouds 
thinned  and  broke,  and  in  the  dim  glimmer  of 
starlight  loomed  the  jungle-clad  coast.  Ahead, 
and  well  on  the  lee-bow,  appeared  a  jagged  rock- 
point.  Both  men  strained  to  it. 

"Amboy  Point,"  Griffiths  announced.  "Plenty 
of  water  close  up.  Take  the  wheel,  Jacobsen,  till 
we  set  a  course.  Get  a  move  on ! " 

Running  aft,  barefooted  and  barelegged,  the 
rainwater  dripping  from  his  scant  clothing,  the 
mate  displaced  the  black  at  the  wheel. 

"How's  she  heading?"  Griffiths  called. 

"South-a-half-west!" 

"Let  her  come  up  south-by-west!    Got  it?" 

"Right  on  it!" 

Griffiths  considered  the  changed  relation  of 
Amboy  Point  to  the  Willi-Waw's  course. 

"And  a-half-west!"  he  cried. 


38  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"  And  a-half-west ! "  came  the  answer.  "  Right 
on  it!" 

"Steady!    That'll  do!" 

"Steady  she  is!"  Jacobsen  turned  the  wheel 
over  to  the  savage.  :<You  steer  good  fella, 
savve?"  he  warned.  "No  good  fella,  I  knock 
your  damn  black  head  off." 

Again  he  went  for'ard  and  joined  the  other, 
and  again  the  cloud-scud  thickened,  the  star- 
glimmer  vanished,  and  the  wind  rose  and 
screamed  in  another  squall. 

"Watch  that  mainsail!"  Griffiths  yelled  in  the 
mate's  ear,  at  the  same  time  studying  the  ketch's 
behaviour. 

Over  she  pressed,  and  lee-rail  under, 
while  he  measured  the  weight  of  the  wind 
and  quested  its  easement.  The  tepid  sea- 
water,  with  here  and  there  tiny  globules  of 
phosphorescence,  washed  about  his  ankles  and 
knees.  The  wind  screamed  a  higher  note,  and 
every  shroud  and  stay  sharply  chorused  an 
answer  as  the  Willi-Waw  pressed  farther  over 
and  down. 

"Down  mainsail!"  Griffiths  yelled,  springing 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  39 

to  the  peak-halyards,  thrusting  away  the  black 
who  held  on,  and  casting  off  the  turn. 

Jacobsen,  at  the  throat-halyards,  was  per 
forming  the  like  office.  The  big  sail  rattled 
down,  and  the  blacks,  with  shouts  and  yells, 
threw  themselves  on  the  battling  canvas.  The 
mate,  finding  one  skulking  in  the  darkness,  flung 
his  bunched  knuckles  into  the  creature's  face 
and  drove  him  to  his  work. 

The  squall  held  at  its  high  pitch,  and  under 
her  small  canvas  the  Willi-Waw  still  foamed 
along.  Again  the  two  men  stood  for'ard  and 
vainly  watched  in  the  horizontal  drive  of  rain. 

"We're  all  right,"  Griffiths  said.  "This  rain 
won't  last.  We  can  hold  this  course  till  we 
pick  up  the  lights.  Anchor  in  thirteen  fathoms. 
You'd  better  overhaul  forty-five  on  a  night  like 
this.  After  that  get  the  gaskets  on  the  mainsail. 
We  won't  need  it." 

Half  an  hour  afterward  his  weary  eyes  were 
rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of  two  lights. 

"There  they  are,  Jacobsen.  I'll  take  the'wheel. 
Run  down  the  fore-staysail  and  stand  by  to  let 
go.  Make  the  niggers  jump." 


40  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Aft,  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  in  his  hands, 
Griffiths  held  the  course  till  the  two  lights  came 
in  line,  when  he  abruptly  altered  and  headed 
directly  in  for  them.  He  heard  the  tumble  and 
roar  of  the  surf,  but  decided  it  was  farther  away 
—  as  it  should  be,  at  Gabera. 

He  heard  the  frightened  cry  of  the  mate,  and 
was  grinding  the  wheel  down  with  all  his  might, 
when  the  Willi-Waw  struck.  At  the  same  in 
stant  her  mainmast  crashed  over  the  bow.  Five 
wild  minutes  followed.  All  hands  held  on  while 
the  hull  upheaved  and  smashed  down  on  the 
brittle  coral  and  the  warm  seas  swept  over  them. 
Grinding  and  crunching,  the  Willi-Waw  worked 
itself  clear  over  the  shoal  patch  and  came  solidly 
to  rest  in  the  comparatively  smooth  and  shallow 
channel  beyond. 

Griffiths  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  cabin, 
head  bowed  on  chest,  in  silent  wrath  and  bitter 
ness.  Once  he  lifted  his  face  to  glare  at  the 
two  white  lights,  one  above  the  other  and  per 
fectly  in  line. 

"There  they  are,"  he  said.  "And  this  isn't 
Gabera.  Then  what  the  hell  is  it?" 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN  41 

Though  the  surf  still  roared  and  across  the 
shoal  flung  its  spray  and  upper  wash  over  them, 
the  wind  died  down  and  the  stars  came  out. 
Shoreward  came  the  sound  of  oars. 

"What  have  you  had?  —  an  earthquake?" 
Griffiths  called  out.  "The  bottom's  all 
changed.  I've  anchored  here  a  hundred 
times  in  thirteen  fathoms.  Is  that  you, 
Wilson?" 

A  whaleboat  came  alongside,  and  a  man 
climbed  over  the  rail.  In  the  faint  light 
Griffiths  found  an  automatic  Colt's  thrust  into 
his  face,  and,  looking  up,  saw  David  Grief. 

"No,  you  never  anchored  here  before,"  Grief 
laughed.  "Gabera's  just  around  the  point, 
where  I'll  be  as  soon  as  I've  collected  that  lit 
tle  sum  of  twelve  hundred  pounds.  We  won't 
bother  for  the  receipt.  I've  your  note  here,  and 
I'll  just  return  it." 

"You  did  this!"  Griffiths  cried,  springing  to 
his  feet  in  a  sudden  gust  of  rage.  "You  faked 
those  leading  lights!  You've  wrecked  me,  and 
by " 

"Steady!     Steady!"    Grief's  voice  was  cool 


42  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  menacing.  "  I'll  trouble  you  for  that  twelve 
hundred,  please." 

To  Griffiths,  a  vast  impotence  seemed  to  de 
scend  upon  him.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  a 
profound  disgust  —  disgust  for  the  sunlands  and 
the  sun-sickness,  for  the  futility  of  all  his  en 
deavour,  for  this  blue-eyed,  golden-tinted,  su 
perior  man  who  defeated  him  on  all  his  ways. 

"  Jacobsen,"  he  said,  "will  you  open  the  cash- 
box  and  pay  this  —  this  bloodsucker  —  twelve 
hundred  pounds?" 


Chapter  Two 

THE  PROUD  GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS 
PANKBURN 


Quick  eye  that  he  had  for  the  promise  of 
adventure,  prepared  always  for  the  unexpected 
to  leap  out  at  him  from  behind  the  nearest 
cocoanut  tree,  nevertheless  David  Grief  re 
ceived  no  warning  when  he  laid  eyes  on  Alo- 
ysius  Pankburn.  It  was  on  the  little  steamer 
Berthe.  Leaving  his  schooner  to  follow,  Grief 
had  taken  passage  for  the  short  run  across  from 
Raiatea  to  Papeete.  When  he  first  saw  Alo- 
ysius  Pankburn,  that  somewhat  fuddled  gentle 
man  was  drinking  a  lonely  cocktail  at  the  tiny 
bar  between  decks  next  to  the  barber  shop. 
And  when  Grief  left  the  barber's  hands  half  an 
hour  later  Aloysius  Pankburn  was  still  hanging 
over  the  bar,  still  drinking  by  himself. 

43 


44  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Now  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  drink  alone, 
and  Grief  threw  sharp  scrutiny  into  his  pass 
ing  glance.  He  saw  a  well-built  young  man 
of  thirty,  well-featured,  well-dressed,  and  evi 
dently,  in  the  world's  catalogue,  a  gentleman. 
But  in  the  faint  hint  of  slovenliness,  in  the 
shaking,  eager  hand  that  spilled  the  liquor,  and 
in  the  nervous,  vacillating  eyes,  Grief  read  the 
unmistakable  marks  of  the  chronic  alcoholic. 

After  dinner  he  chanced  upon  Pankburn 
again.  This  time  it  was  on  deck,  and  the  young 
man,  clinging  to  the  rail  and  peering  into  the 
distance  at  the  dim  forms  of  a  man  and  woman  in 
two  steamer  chairs  drawn  closely  together,  was 
crying,  drunkenly.  Grief  noted  that  the  man's 
arm  was  around  the  woman's  waist.  Aloysius 
Pankburn  looked  on  and  cried. 

"Nothing  to  weep  about,"  Grief  said  genially. 

Pankburn  looked  at  him,  and  gushed  tears  of 
profound  self-pity. 

"It's    hard,"    he    sobbed.     "Hard.     Hard. 
That  man's  my  business  manager.     I  employ 
him.     I  pay  him  a  good  screw.     And  that's  how 
he  earns  it." 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       45 

"In  that  case,  why  don't  you  put  a  stop  to 
it?"  Grief  advised. 

"I  can't.  She'd  shut  off  my  whiskey.  She's 
my  trained  nurse." 

"Fire  her,  then,  and  drink  your  head  off." 

"I  can't.  He's  got  all  my  money.  If  I  did, 
he  wouldn't  give  me  sixpence  to  buy  a  drink 
with." 

This  woful  possibility  brought  a  fresh  wash 
of  tears.  Grief  was  interested.  Of  all  unique 
situations  he  could  never  have  imagined  such  a 
one  as  this. 

"They  were  engaged  to  take  care  of  me," 
Pankburn  was  blubbering,  "to  keep  me  away 
from  the  drink.  And  that's  the  way  they  do  it, 
lollygagging  all  about  the  ship  and  letting  me 
drink  myself  to  death.  It  isn't  right,  I  tell  you. 
It  isn't  right.  They  were  sent  along  with  me  for 
the  express  purpose  of  not  letting  me  drink, 
and  they  let  me  drink  to  swinishness  as  long  as 
I  leave  them  alone.  If  I  complain  they  threaten 
not  to  let  me  have  another  drop.  What  can 
a  poor  devil  do?  My  death  will  be  on  their 
heads,  that's  all.  Come  on  down  and  join  me." 


46  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

He  released  his  clutch  on  the  rail,  and  would 
have  fallen  had  Grief  not  caught  his  arm.  He 
seemed  to  undergo  a  transformation,  to  stiffen 
physically,  to  thrust  his  chin  forward  aggres 
sively,  and  to  glint  harshly  in  his  eyes. 

"I  won't  let  them  kill  me.  And  they'll  be 
sorry.  I've  offered  them  fifty  thousand  — 
later  on,  of  course.  They  laughed.  They  don't 
know.  But  I  know."  He  fumbled  in  his  coat 
pocket  and  drew  forth  an  object  that  flashed  in 
the  faint  light.  "They  don't  know  the  meaning 
of  that.  But  I  do."  He  looked  at  Grief  with 
abrupt  suspicion.  "What  do  you  make  out  of 
it,  eh?  What  do  you  make  out  of  it?" 

David  Grief  caught  a  swift  vision  of  an  al 
coholic  degenerate  putting  a  very  loving  young 
couple  to  death  with  a  copper  spike,  for  a  copper 
spike  was  what  he  held  in  his  hand,  an  evident 
old-fashioned  ship-fastening. 

"My  mother  thinks  I'm  up  here  to  get  cured 
of  the  booze  habit.  She  doesn't  know.  I 
bribed  the  doctor  to  prescribe  a  voyage.  When 
we  get  to  Papeete  my  manager  is  going  to  char 
ter  a  schooner  and  away  we'll  sail.  But  they 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       47 

don't  dream.  They  think  it's  the  booze.  I  know. 
I  only  know.  Good  night,  sir.  I'm  going  to  bed 
—  unless  —  er  —  you'll  join  me  in  a  night  cap. 
One  last  drink,  you  know." 

II 

In  the  week  that  followed  at  Papeete  Grief 
caught  numerous  and  bizarre  glimpses  of  Alo- 
ysius  Pankburn.  So  did  everybody  else  in  the 
little  island  capital;  for  neither  the  beach  nor 
Lavina's  boarding  house  had  been  so  scan 
dalized  in  years.  In  midday,  bareheaded, 
clad  only  in  swimming  trunks,  Aloysius  Pank 
burn  ran  down  the  main  street  from  Lavina's  to 
the  water  front.  He  put  on  the  gloves  with  a 
fireman  from  the  Berthe  in  a  scheduled  four- 
round  bout  at  the  Folies  Bergeres,  and  was 
knocked  out  in  the  second  round.  He  tried 
insanely  to  drown  himself  in  a  two-foot  pool  of 
water,  dived  drunkenly  and  splendidly  from 
fifty  feet  up  in  the  rigging  of  the  Mariposa 
lying  at  the  wharf,  and  chartered  the  cutter 
Toerau  at  more  than  her  purchase  price  and  was 
only  saved  by  his  manager's  refusal  financially 


48  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

to  ratify  the  agreement.  He  bought  out  the 
old  blind  leper  at  the  market,  and  sold  bread 
fruit,  plantains,  and  sweet  potatoes  at  such  cut- 
rates  that  the  gendarmes  were  called  out  to 
break  the  rush  of  bargain-hunting  natives. 
For  that  matter,  three  times  the  gendarmes 
arrested  him  for  riotous  behaviour,  and  three 
times  his  manager  ceased  from  love-making 
long  enough  to  pay  the  fines  imposed  by  a  needy 
colonial  administration. 

Then  the  Mariposa  sailed  for  San  Francisco, 
and  in  the  bridal  suite  were  the  manager  and 
the  trained  nurse,  fresh-married.  Before  de 
parting,  the  manager  had  thoughtfully  be 
stowed  eight  five-pound  banknotes  on  Aloysius, 
with  the  foreseen  result  that  Aloysius  awoke 
several  days  later  to  find  himself  broke  and 
perilously  near  to  delirium  tremens.  Lavina, 
famed  for  her  good  heart  even  among  the  drift 
age  of  South  Pacific  rogues  and  scamps,  nursed 
him  around  and  never  let  it  filter  into  his  return 
ing  intelligence  that  there  was  neither  manager 
nor  money  to  pay  his  board. 

It  was  several  evenings  after  this  that  David 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       49 

Grief,  lounging  under  the  after  deck  awning  of 
the  Kittiwake  and  idly  scanning  the  meagre 
columns  of  the  Papeete  Avant-Coureur,  sat  sud 
denly  up  and  almost  rubbed  his  eyes.  It  was 
unbelievable,  but  there  it  was.  The  old  South 
Seas  Romance  was  not  dead.  He  read: 

WANTED  —  To  exchange  a  half  interest  in  buried 
treasure,  worth  five  million  francs,  for  transportation  for 
one  to  an  unknown  island  in  the  Pacific  and  facilities  for 
carrying  away  the  loot.  Ask  for  FOLLY,  at  Lavina's. 

Grief  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  early  yet, 
only  eight  o'clock. 

"Mr.  Carlsen,"  he  called  in  the  direction  of 
a  glowing  pipe.  "Get  the  crew  for  the  whale- 
boat.  I'm  going  ashore." 

The  husky  voice  of  the  Norwegian  mate  was 
raised  for'ard,  and  half  a  dozen  strapping  Rapa 
Islanders  ceased  their  singing  and  manned  the 
boat. 

"I  carne  to  see  Folly,  Mr.  Folly,  I  imagine," 
David  Grief  told  Lavina. 

He  noted  the  quick  interest  in  her  eyes  as 
she  turned  her  head  and  flung  a  command  in 


50  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

native  across  two  open  rooms  to  the  outstand 
ing  kitchen.  A  few  minutes  later  a  barefooted 
native  girl  padded  in  and  shook  her  head. 

Lavina's  disappointment  was  evident. 

"You're  stopping  aboard  the  Kittiwake,  aren't 
you?  "  she  said.  "  I'll  tell  him  you  called." 

"Then  it  is  a  he?"  Grief  queried. 

Lavina  nodded. 

"I  hope  you  can  do  something  for  him,  Cap 
tain  Grief.  I'm  only  a  good-natured  woman. 
I  don't  know.  But  he's  a  likable  man,  and  he 
may  be  telling  the  truth;  I  don't  know.  You'll 
know.  You're  not  a  soft-hearted  fool  like  me. 
Can't  I  mix  you  a  cocktail?" 

Ill 

Back  on  board  his  schooner  and  dozing  in  a 
deck  chair  under  a  three-months-old  magazine, 
David  Grief  was  aroused  by  a  sobbing,  slubber 
ing  noise  from  overside.  He  opened  his  eyes. 
From  the  Chilian  cruiser,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  came  the  stroke  of  eight  bells.  It  was 
midnight.  From  overside  came  a  splash  and 
another  slubbering  noise.  To  him  it  seemed 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBTJRN       51 

half  amphibian,  half  the  sounds  of  a  man  crying 
to  himself  and  querulously  chanting  his  sorrows 
to  the  general  universe. 

A  jump  took  David  Grief  to  the  low  rail. 
Beneath,  centred  about  the  slubbering  noise, 
was  an  area  of  agitated  phosphorescence.  Lean 
ing  over,  he  locked  his  hand  under  the  arm 
pit  of  a  man,  and,  with  pull  and  heave  and 
quick-changing  grips,  he  drew  on  deck  the  naked 
form  of  Aloysius  Pankburn. 

"I  didn't  have  a  sou-markee,"  he  complained. 
"I  had  to  swim  it,  and  I  couldn't  find  your 
gangway.  It  was  very  miserable.  Pardon  me. 
If  you  have  a  towel  to  put  about  my  middle, 
and  a  good  stiff  drink,  I'll  be  more  myself.  I'm 
Mr.  Folly,  and  you're  the  Captain  Grief,  I  pre 
sume,  who  called  on  me  when  I  was  out.  No, 
I'm  not  drunk.  Nor  am  I  cold.  This  isn't 
shivering.  Lavina  allowed  me  only  two  drinks 
to-day.  I'm  on  the  edge  of  the  horrors,  that's 
all,  and  I  was  beginning  to  see  things  when  I 
couldn't  find  the  gangway.  If  you'll  take  me 
below  I'll  be  very  grateful.  You  are  the  only 
one  that  answered  my  advertisement. " 


52  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

He  was  shaking  pitiably  in  the  warm  night, 
and  down  in  the  cabin,  before  he  got  his  towel, 
Grief  saw  to  it  that  a  half-tumbler  of  whiskey 
was  in  his  hand. 

"Now  fire  ahead,"  Grief  said,  when  he  had 
got  his  guest  into  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of  duck 
trousers.  "  What's  this  advertisement  of  yours? 
I'm  listening." 

Pankburn  looked  at  the  whiskey  bottle,  but 
Grief  shook  his  head. 

"All  right,  Captain,  though  I  tell  you  on 
whatever  is  left  of  my  honour  that  I  am  not 
drunk  —  not  in  the  least.  Also,  what  I  shall 
tell  you  is  true,  and  I  shall  tell  it  briefly,  for  it 
is  clear  to  me  that  you  are  a  man  of  affairs  and 
action.  Likewise,  your  chemistry  is  good.  To 
you  alcohol  has  never  been  a  million  maggots 
gnawing  at  every  cell  of  you.  You've  never 
been  to  hell.  I  am  there  now.  I  am  scorch 
ing.  Now  listen. 

"My  mother  is  alive.  She  is  English.  I  was 
born  in  Australia.  I  was  educated  at  York 
and  Yale.  I  am  a  master  of  arts,  a  doctor  of 
philosophy,  and  I  am  no  good.  Furthermore, 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       53 

I  am  an  alcoholic.  I  have  been  an  athlete.  I 
used  to  swan-dive  a  hundred  and  ten  feet  in  the 
clear.  I  hold  several  amateur  records.  I  am 
a  fish.  I  learned  the  crawl-stroke  from  the 
first  of  the  Cavilles.  I  have  done  thirty  miles 
in  a  rough  sea.  I  have  another  record.  I  have 
punished  more  whiskey  than  any  man  of  my 
years.  I  will  steal  sixpence  from  you  for  the 
price  of  a  drink.  Finally,  I  will  tell  you  the 
truth. 

"My  father  was  an  American  —  an  An 
napolis  man.  He  was  a  midshipman  in  the 
War  of  the  Rebellion.  In  '66  he  was  a  lieuten 
ant  on  the  Suwanee.  Her  captain  was  Paul 
Shirley.  In  '66  the  Suwanee  coaled  at  an  is 
land  in  the  Pacific  which  I  do  not  care  to  men 
tion,  under  a  protectorate  which  did  not  exist 
then  and  which  shall  be  nameless.  Ashore,  be 
hind  the  bar  of  a  public  house,  my  father  saw 
three  copper  spikes  —  ship's  spikes." 

David  Grief  smiled  quietly. 

"And  now  I  can  tell  you  the  name  of  the  coal 
ing  station  and  of  the  protectorate  that  came 
afterward,"  he  said. 


54  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"And  of  the  three  spikes?"  Pankburn  asked 
with  equal  quietness.  "Go-ahead,  for  they  are 
in  my  possession  now." 

"Certainly.  They  were  behind  German  Os 
car's  bar  at  Peenoo-Peenee.  Johnny  Black 
brought  them  there  from  off  his  schooner  the 
night  he  died.  He  was  just  back  from  a  long 
cruise  to  the  westward,  fishing  beche-de-mer  and 
sandal  wood  trading.  All  the  beach  knows  the 
tale." 

Pankburn  shook  his  head. 

"Go  on,"  he  urged. 

"It  was  before  my  time,  of  course,"  Grief 
explained.  "I  only  tell  what  I've  heard.  Next 
came  the  Ecuadoran  cruiser,  of  all  directions, 
in  from  the  westward,  and  bound  home.  Her 
officers  recognized  the  spikes.  Johnny  Black 
was  dead.  They  got  hold  of  his  mate  and  log 
book.  Away  to  the  westward  went  she.  Six 
months  after,  again  bound  home,  she  dropped 
in  at  Peenoo-Peenee.  She  had  failed,  and  the 
tale  leaked  out." 

"When  the  revolutionists  were  marching  on 
Guayaquil,"  Pankburn  took  it  up,  "the  federal 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       55 

officers,  believing  a  defence  of  the  city  hopeless, 
salted  down  the  government  treasure  chest, 
something  like  a  million  dollars  gold,  but  all  in 
English  coinage,  and  put  it  on  board  the  Ameri 
can  schooner  Flirt.  They  were  going  to  run  at 
daylight.  The  American  captain  skinned  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  night.  Go  on." 

"It's  an  old  story,"  Grief  resumed.  "There 
was  no  other  vessel  in  the  harbour.  The  federal 
leaders  couldn't  run.  They  put  their  backs 
to  the  wall  and  held  the  city.  Rohjas  Salced, 
making  a  forced  march  from  Quito,  raised  the 
siege.  The  revolution  was  broken,  and  the 
one  ancient  steamer  that  constituted  the  Ecua 
doran  navy  was  sent  in  pursuit  of  the  Flirt. 
They  caught  her,  between  the  Banks  Group 
and  the  New  Hebrides,  hove  to  and  flying  dis 
tress  signals.  The  captain  had  died  the  day 
before  —  blackwater  fever." 

"And  the  mate?"  Pankburn  challenged. 

"The  mate  had  been  killed  a  week  earlier 
by  the  natives  on  one  of  the  Banks,  when  they 
sent  a  boat  in  for  water.  There  were  no  navi 
gators  left.  The  men  were  put  to  the  torture. 


56  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

It  was  beyond  international  law.  They  wanted 
to  confess,  but  couldn't.  They  told  of  the  three 
spikes  in  the  trees  on  the  beach,  but  where  the 
island  was  they  did  not  know.  To  the  west 
ward,  far  to  the  westward,  was  all  they  knew. 
The  tale  now  goes  two  ways.  One  is  that  they 
all  died  under  the  torture.  The  other  is  that 
the  survivors  were  swung  at  the  yardarm.  At 
any  rate,  the  Ecuadoran  cruiser  went  home 
without  the  treasure.  Johnny  Black  brought 
the  three  spikes  to  Peenoo-Peenee,  and  left 
them  at  German  Oscar's,  but  how  and  where  he 
found  them  he  never  told." 

Pankburn  looked  hard  at  the  whiskey  bottle. 

"Just  two  fingers,"  he  whimpered. 

Grief  considered,  and  poured  a  meagre  drink. 
Pankburn's  eyes  sparkled,  and  he  took  new 
lease  of  life. 

"And  this  is  where  I  come  in  with  the  missing 
details,"  he  said.  "Johnny  Black  did  tell.  He 
told  my  father.  Wrote  him  from  Levuka,  before 
he  came  on  to  die  at  Peenoo-Peenee.  My  father 
had  saved  his  life  one  rough-house  night  in  Val 
paraiso.  A  Chink  pearler,  out  of  Thursday 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       57 

Island,  prospecting  for  new  grounds  to  the 
north  of  New  Guinea,  traded  for  the  three  spikes 
with  a  nigger.  Johnny  Black  bought  them  for 
copper  weight.  He  didn't  dream  any  more  than 
the  Chink,  but  coming  back  he  stopped  for 
hawksbill  turtle  at  the  very  beach  where  you  say 
the  mate  of  the  Flirt  was  killed.  Only  he  wasn't 
killed.  The  Banks  Islanders  held  him  prisoner, 
and  he  was  dying  of  necrosis  of  the  jawbone, 
caused  by  an  arrow  wound  in  the  fight  on  the 
beach.  Before  he  died  he  told  the  yarn  to  Johnny 
Black.  Johnny  Black  wrote  my  father  from 
Levuka.  4  He  was  at  the  end  of  his  rope  —  can 
cer.  My  father,  ten  years  afterward,  when 
captain  of  the  Perry,  got  the  spikes  from  Ger 
man  Oscar.  And  from  my  father,  last  will  and 
testament,  you  know,  came  the  spikes  and  the 
data.  I  have  the  island,  the  latitude  and 
longitude  of  the  beach  where  the  three  spikes 
were  nailed  pn  the  trees.  The  spikes  are  up  at 
Lavina's  now.  The  latitude  and  longitude  are 
in  my  head.  Now  what  do  you  think?" 

"  Fishy,"  was  Grief's  instant  judgment.  "  Why 
didn't  your  father  go  and  get  it  himself?" 


58  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Didn't  need  it.  An  uncle  died  and  left 
him  a  fortune.  He  retired  from  the  navy,  ran 
foul  of  an  epidemic  of  trained  nurses  in  Boston, 
and  my  mother  got  a  divorce.  Also,  she  fell 
heir  to  an  income  of  something  like  thirty 
thousand  dollars,  and  went  to  live  in  New  Zea 
land.  I  was  divided  between  them,  half-time 
New  Zealand,  half-time  United  States,  until 
my  father's  death  last  year.  Now  my  mother 
has  me  altogether.  He  left  me  his  money  —  oh, 
a  couple  of  millions  —  but  my  mother  has  had 
guardians  appointed  on  account  of  the  drink. 
I'm  worth  all  kinds  of  money,  but  I  can't  touch 
a  penny  save  what  is  doled  out  to  me.  But  the 
old  man,  who  had  got  the  tip  on  my  drinking, 
left  me  the  three  spikes  and  the  data  thereunto 
pertaining.  Did  it  through  his  lawyers,  un 
known  to  my  mother;  said  it  beat  life  insurance, 
and  that  if  I  had  the  backbone  to  go  and  get  it 
I  could  drink  my  back  teeth  awash  until  I  died. 
Millions  in  the  hands  of  my  guardians,  slathers 
of  shekels  of  my  mother's  that'll  be  mine  if 
she  beats  me  to  the  crematory,  another  million 
waiting  to  be  dug  up,  and  in  the  meantime 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       59 

I'm  cadging  on  Lavina  for  two  drinks  a  day. 
It's  hell,  isn't  it?  —  when  you  consider  my 
thirst." 

"Where's  the  island?" 

"It's  a  long  way  from  here." 

"Name  it." 

"Not  on  your  life,  Captain  Grief.  You're 
making  an  easy  half-million  out  of  this.  You 
will  sail  under  my  directions,  and  when  we're 
well  to  sea  and  on  our  way  I'll  tell  you  and  not 
before." 

Grief  shrugged  his  shoulders,  dismissing  the 
subject. 

"When  I've  given  you  another  drink  I'll 
send  the  boat  ashore  with  you,"  he  said. 

Pankburn  was  taken  aback.  For  at  least 
five  minutes  he  debated  with  himself,  then 
licked  his  lips  and  surrendered. 

"If  you  promise  to  go,  I'll  tell  you  now." 

"Of  course  I'm  willing  to  go.  That's  why  I 
asked  you.  Name  the  island." 

Pankburn  looked  at  the  bottle. 

"I'll  take  that  drink  now,  Captain." 

"No  you  won't.     That  drink  was  for  you  if 


60  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

you  went  ashore.  If  you  are  going  to  tell  me 
the  island,  you  must  do  it  in  your  sober  senses." 

"Francis  Island,  if  you  will  have  it.  Bou 
gainville  named  it  Barbour  Island." 

"Off  there  all  by  its  lonely  in  the  Little  Coral 
Sea,"  Grief  said.  "I  know  it.  Lies  between 
New  Ireland  and  New  Guinea.  A  rotten  hole 
now,  though  it  was  all  right  when  the  Flirt 
drove  in  the  spikes  and  the  Chink  pearler  traded 
for  them.  The  steamship  Castor,  recruiting 
labour  for  the  Upolu  plantations,  was  cut  off 
there  with  all  hands  two  years  ago.  I  knew  her 
captain  well.  The  Germans  sent  a  cruiser, 
shelled  the  bush,  burned  half  a  dozen  villages, 
killed  a  couple  of  niggers  and  a  lot  of  pigs,  and 
—  and  that  was  all.  The  niggers  always  were 
bad  there,  but  they  turned  really  bad  forty 
years  ago.  That  was  when  they  cut  off  a 
whaler.  Let  me  see?  What  was  her  name?" 

He  stepped  to  the  bookshelf,  drew  out  the 
bulky  "South  Pacific  Directory,"  and  ran 
through  its  pages. 

"Yes.  Here  it  is.  Francis,  or  Barbour,"  he 
skimmed.  "Natives  warlike  and  treacherous 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN      61 

—  Melanesian  —  cannibals.  Whaleship  Wes 
tern  cut  off  —  that  was  her  name.  Shoals  — 
points  —  anchorages  —  ah,  Redscar,  Owen  Bay, 
Likikili  Bay,  that's  more  like  it;  deep  inden 
tation,  mangrove  swamps,  good  holding  in  nine 
fathoms  when  white  scar  in  bluff  bears  west- 
southwest."  Grief  looked  up.  "That's  your 
beach,  Pankburn,  I'll  swear." 

"Will  you  go?"  the  other  demanded  eagerly. 

Grief  nodded. 

"It  sounds  good  to  me.  Now  if  the  story 
had  been  of  a  hundred  millions,  or  some  such 
crazy  sum,  I  wouldn't  look  at  it  for  a  moment. 
We'll  sail  to-morrow,  but  under  one  considera 
tion.  You  are  to  be  absolutely  under  my  or 
ders." 

His  visitor  nodded  emphatically  and  joyously. 

"And  that  means  no  drink." 

"That's  pretty  hard,"  Pankburn  whined. 

"It's  my  terms.  I'm  enough  of  a  doctor  to 
see  you  don't  come  to  harm.  And  you  are  to 
work  —  hard  work,  sailor's  work.  You'll  stand 
regular  watches  and  everything,  though  you 
eat  and  sleep  aft  with  us." 


62  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"It's  a  go."  Pankburn  put  out  his  hand  to 
ratify  the  agreement.  "If  it  doesn't  kill  me," 
he  added. 

David  Grief  poured  a  generous  three-fingers 
into  the  tumbler  and  extended  it.  ' 

"Then  here's  your  last  drink.    Take  it." 

Pankburn's  hand  went  halfway  out.  ^  With  a 
sudden  spasm  of  resolution,  he  hesitated,  threw 
back  his  shoulders,  and  straightened  up  his 
head. 

"I  guess  I  won't,"  he  began,  then,  feebly  sur 
rendering  to  the  gnaw  of  desire,  he  reached 
hastily  for  the  glass,  as  if  in  fear  that  it  would 
be  withdrawn. 

IV 

It  is  a  long  traverse  from  Papeete  in  the  So 
cieties  to  the  Little  Coral  Sea  —  from  150  west 
longitude  to  150  east  longitude  —  as  the  crow 
flies  the  equivalent  to  a  voyage  across  the 
Atlantic.  But  the  Kittiwake  did  not  go  as  the 
crow  flies.  David  Grief's  numerous  interests 
diverted  her  course  many  times.  He  stopped 
to  take  a  look-in  at  uninhabited  Rose  Island 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       63 

with  an  eye  to  colonizing  and  planting  cocoa- 
nuts.  Next,  he  paid  his  respects  to  Tui  Mamia, 
of  Eastern  Samoa,  and  opened  an  intrigue 
for  a  share  of  the  trade  monopoly  of  that 
dying  king's  three  islands.  From  Apia  he 
carried  several  relief  agents  and  a  load  of  trade 
goods  to  the  Gilberts.  He  peeped  in  at  Ontong- 
Java  Atoll,  inspected  his  plantations  on  Ysabel, 
and  purchased  lands  from  the  salt-water  chiefs 
of  northwestern  Malaita.  And  all  along  this 
devious  way  he  made  a  man  of  Aloysius 
Pankburn. 

That  thirster,  though  he  lived  aft,  was  com 
pelled  to  do  the  work  of  a  common  sailor.  And 
not  only  did  he  take  his  wheel  and  lookout,  and 
heave  on  sheets  and  tackles,  but  the  dirtiest 
and  most  arduous  tasks  were  appointed  him. 
Swung  aloft  in  a  bosun's  chair,  he  scraped  the 
masts  and  slushed  down.  Holystoning  the 
deck  or  scrubbing  it  with  fresh  limes  made  his 
back  ache  and  developed  the  wasted,  flabby 
muscles.  When  the  KittiwaJce  lay  at  anchor 
and  her  copper  bottom  was  scrubbed  with  cocoa- 
nut  husks  by  the  native  crew,  who  dived  and  did 


64  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

it  under  water,  Pankburn  was  sent  down  on  his 
shift  and  as  many  times  as  any  on  the  shift. 

"Look  at  yourself,"  Grief  said.  "You  are 
twice  the  man  you  were  when  you  came  on 
board.  You  haven't  had  one  drink,  you  didn't 
die,  and  the  poison  is  pretty  well  worked  out  of 
you.  It's  the  work.  It  beats  trained  nurses  and 
business  managers.  Here,  if  you're  thirsty. 
Clap  your  lips  to  this." 

With  several  deft  strokes  of  his  heavy-backed 
sheath-knife,  Grief  clipped  a  triangular  piece  of 
shell  from  the  end  of  a  husked  drinking-cocoa- 
nut.  The  thin,  cool  liquid,  slightly  milky  and 
effervescent,  bubbled  to  the  brim.  With  a  bow, 
Pankburn  took  the  natural  cup,  threw  his  head 
back,  and  held  it  back  till  the  shell  was  empty. 
He  drank  many  of  these  nuts  each  day.  The 
black  steward,  a  New  Hebrides  boy  sixty  years 
of  age,  and  his  assistant,  a  Lark  Islander  of 
eleven,  saw  to  it  that  he  was  continually  sup 
plied. 

Pankburn  did  not  object  to  the  hard  work. 
He  devoured  work,  never  shirking  and  always 
beating  the  native  sailors  in  jumping  to  obey  a 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       65 

command.  But  his  sufferings  during  the  period 
of  driving  the  alcohol  out  of  his  system  were 
truly  heroic.  Even  when  the  last  shred  of  the 
poison  was  exuded,  the  desire,  as  an  obsession, 
remained  in  his  head.  So  it  was,  when,  on  his 
honour,  he  went  ashore  at  Apia,  that  he  at 
tempted  to  put  the  public  houses  out  of  business 
by  drinking  up  their  stocks  in  trade.  And  so 
it  was,  at  two  in  the  morning,  that  David  Grief 
found  him  in  front  of  the  Tivoli,  out  of  which  he 
had  been  disorderly  thrown  by  Charley  Roberts. 
Aloysius,  as  of  old,  was  chanting  his  sorrows  to 
the  stars.  Also,  and  more  concretely,  he  was 
punctuating  the  rhythm  with  cobbles  of  coral 
stone,  which  he  flung  with  amazing  accuracy 
through  Charley  Roberts's  windows. 

David  Grief  took  him  away,  but  not  till  next 
morning  did  he  take  him  in  hand.  It  was  on 
the  deck  of  the  Kittiwake,  and  there  was  nothing 
kindergarten  about  it.  Grief  struck  him,  with 
bare  knuckles,  punched  him  and  punished  him 
—  gave  him  the  worst  thrashing  he  had  ever 
received. 

"For  the  good  of  your  soul,  Pankburn,"  was 


66  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

the  way  he  emphasized  his  blows.  "For  the 
good  of  your  mother.  For  the  progeny  that  will 
come  after.  For  the  good  of  the  world,  and  the 
universe,  and  the  whole  race  of  man  yet  to  be. 
And  now,  to  hammer  the  lesson  home,  we'll  do 
it  all  over  again.  That,  for  the  good  of  your 
soul;  and  that,  for  your  mother's  sake;  and  that, 
for  the  little  children,  undreamed  of  and  un 
born,  whose  mother  you'll  love  for  their  sakes, 
and  for  love's  sake,  in  the  lease  of  manhood  that 
will  be  yours  when  I  am  done  with  you.  Come 
on  and  take  your  medicine.  I'm  not  done  with 
you  yet.  I've  only  begun.  There  are  many  other 
reasons  which  I  shall  now  proceed  to  expound." 
The  brown  sailors  and  the  black  stewards  and 
cook  looked  on  and  grinned.  Far  from  them  was 
the  questioning  of  any  of  the  mysterious  and  in 
comprehensible  ways  of  white  men.  As  for 
Carlsen,  the  mate,  he  was  grimly  in  accord  with 
the  treatment  his  employer  was  administering; 
while  Albright,  the  supercargo,  merely  played 
with  his  mustache  and  smiled.  They  were  men 
of  the  sea.  They  lived  life  in  the  rough.  And 
alcohol,  in  themselves  as  well  as  in  other  men, 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBUKN       67 

was  a  problem  they  had  learned  to  handle  in 
ways  not  taught  in  doctors'  schools. 

"Boy!  A  bucket  of  fresh  water  and  a  towel," 
Grief  ordered,  when  he  had  finished.  "Two 
buckets  and  two  towels,"  he  added,  as  he  sur 
veyed  his  own  hands. 

"You're  a  pretty  one,"  he  said  to  Pankburn. 
"You've  spoiled  everything.  I  had  the  poison 
completely  out  of  you.  And  now  you  are  fairly 
reeking  with  it.  We've  got  to  begin  all  over 
again.  Mr.  Albright!  You  know  that  pile  of 
old  chain  on  the  beach  at  the  boat-landing. 
Find  the  owner,  buy  it,  and  fetch  it  on  board. 
There  must  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  fathoms  of  it. 
Pankburn!  To-morrow  morning  you  start  in 
pounding  the  rust  off  of  it.  When  you've  done 
that,  you'll  sandpaper  it.  Then  you'll  paint 
it.  And  nothing  else  will  you  do  till  that  chain 
is  as  smooth  as  new." 

Aloysius  Pankburn  shook  his  head. 

"I  quit.  Francis  Island  can  go  to  hell  for 
all  of  me.  I'm  done  with  your  slave-driving. 
Kindly  put  me  ashore  at  once.  I'm  a  white 
man.  You  can't  treat  me  this  way." 


68  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Mr.  Carlsen,  you  will  see  that  Mr.  Pank- 
burn  remains  on  board." 

"T'11  have  you  broken  for  this!"  Aloysius 
screamed.  "You  can't  stop  me." 

"I  can  give  you  another  licking,"  Grief  an 
swered.  "And  let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  you 
besotted  whelp,  I'll  keep  on  licking  you  as  long 
as  my  knuckles  hold  out  or  until  you  yearn  to 
hammer  chain  rust.  I've  taken  you  in  hand, 
and  I'm  going  to  make  a  man  out  of  you  if  I 
have  to  kill  you  to  do  it.  Now  go  below  and 
change  your  clothes.  Be  ready  to  turn  to  with  a 
hammer  this  afternoon.  Mr.  Albright,  get  that 
chain  aboard  pronto.  Mr.  Carlsen,  send  the 
boats  ashore  after  it.  Also,  keep  your  eye  on 
Pankburn.  If  he  shows  signs  of  keeling  over 
or  going  into  the  shakes,  give  him  a  nip  —  a 
small  one.  He  may  need  it  after  last  night." 


For  the  rest  of  the  time  the  Kittiwake  lay  in 
Apia  Aloysius  Pankburn  pounded  chain  rust. 
Ten  hours  a  day  he  pounded.  And  on  the  long 
stretch  across  to  the  Gilberts  he  still  pounded. 


1 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       69 

Then  came  the  sandpapering.  One  hundred 
and  fifty  fathoms  is  nine  hundred  feet,  and  every 
link  of  all  that  length  was  smoothed  and  pol 
ished  as  no  link  ever  was  before.  And  when  the 
last  link  had  received  its  second  coat  of  black 
paint,  he  declared  himself. 

"Come  on  with  more  dirty  work,"  he  told 
Grief.  "I'll  overhaul  the  other  chains  if  you  say 
so.  And  you  needn't  worry  about  me  any  more. 
I'm  not  going  to  take  another  drop.  I'm  going 
to  train  up.  You  got  my  proud  goat  when  you 
beat  me,  but  let  me  tell  you,  you  only  got  it 
temporarily.  Train!  I'm  going  to  train  till 
I'm  as  hard  all  the  way  through,  and  clean  all 
the  way  through,  as  that  chain  is.  And  some 
day,  Mister  David  Grief,  somewhere,  some 
how,  I'm  going  to  be  in  such  shape  that  I'll  lick 
you  as  you  licked  me.  I'm  going  to  pulp  your 
face  till  your  own  niggers  won't  know  you." 

Grief  was  jubilant. 

"Now  you're  talking  like  a  man,"  he  cried. 
"The  only  way  you'll  ever  lick  me  is  to  become 
a  man.  And  then,  maybe " 

He  paused  in  the  hope  that  the  other  would 


70  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

catch  the  suggestion.  Aloysius  groped  for  it, 
and,  abruptly,  something  akin  to  illumination 
shone  in  his  eyes. 

"And  then  I  won't  want  to,  you  mean?" 

Grief  nodded. 

"And  that's  the  curse  of  it,"  Aloysius  la 
mented.  "I  really  believe  I  won't  want  to.  I 
see  the  point.  But  I'm  going  to  go  right  on  and 
shape  myself  up  just  the  same." 

The  warm,  sunburn  glow  in  Grief's  face 
seemed  to  grow  warmer.  His  hand  went  out. 

"Pankburn,  I  love  you  right  now  for  that." 

Aloysius  grasped  the  hand,  and  shook  his 
head  in  sad  sincerity. 

"Grief,"  he  mourned,  "you've  got  my  goat, 
you've  got  my  proud  goat,  and  you've  got  it 
permanently,  I'm  afraid." 

VI 

On  a  sultry  tropic  day,  when  the  last  flicker 
of  the  far  southeast  trade  was  fading  out  and 
the  seasonal  change  for  the  northwest  monsoon 
was  coming  on,  the  Kittlwake  lifted  above  the 
sea-rim  the  jungle-clad  coast  of  Francis  Island. 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSITJS  PANKBURN       71 

Grief,  with  compass  bearings  and  binoculars, 
identified  the  volcano  that  marked  Redscar, 
ran  past  Owen  Bay,  and  lost  the  last  of  the 
breeze  at  the  entrance  to  Likikili  Bay.  With  the 
two  whaleboats  out  and  towing,  and  with  Carl- 
sen  heaving  the  lead,  the  KittiwaJce  sluggishly 
entered  a  deep  and  narrow  indentation.  There 
were  no  beaches.  The  mangroves  began  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  behind  them  rose  steep  jungle, 
broken  here  and  there  by  jagged  peaks  of  rock. 
At  the  end  of  a  mile,  when  the  white  scar  on  the 
bluff  bore  west-southwest,  the  lead  vindicated 
the  "Directory,"  and  the  anchor  rumbled  down 
in  nine  fathoms. 

For  the  rest  of  that  day  and  until  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  following  they  remained 
on  the  Kittiwake  and  waited.  No  canoes  ap 
peared.  There  were  no  signs  of  human  life. 
Save  for  the  occasional  splash  of  a  fish  or 
the  screaming  of  cockatoos,  there  seemed  no 
other  life.  Once,  however,  a  huge  butterfly, 
twelve  inches  from  tip  to  tip,  fluttered  high 
over  their  mastheads  and  drifted  across  to  the 
opposing  jungle. 


72  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"There's  no  use  in  sending  a  boat  in  to  be  cut 
up,"  Grief  said. 

Pankburn  was  incredulous,  and  volunteered 
to  go  in  alone,  to  swim  it  if  he  couldn't  borrow 
the  dingey. 

"They  haven't  forgotten  the  German  cruiser," 
Grief  explained.  "And  I'll  wager  that  bush  is 
alive  with  men  right  now.  What  do  you  think, 
Mr.  Carlsen?" 

That  veteran  adventurer  of  the  islands  was 
emphatic  in  his  agreement. 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
Grief  ordered  a  whaleboat  into  the  water.  He 
took  his  place  in  the  bow,  a  live  cigarette 
in  his  mouth  and  a  short-fused  stick  of  dyna 
mite  in  his  hand,  for  he  was  bent  on  shooting 
a  mess  of  fish.  Along  the  thwarts  half  a 
dozen  Winchesters  were  placed.  Albright,  who 
took  the  steering-sweep,  had  a  Mauser  within 
reach  of  hand.  They  pulled  in  and  along  the 
green  wall  of  vegetation.  At  times  they  rested 
on  the  oars  in  the  midst  of  a  profound  silence. 

"Two  to  one  the  bush  is  swarming  with  them 
—  in  quids,"  Albright  whispered. 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       75 

Pankburn  listened  a  moment  longer  and  took 
the  bet.  Five  minutes  later  they  sighted  a 
school  of  mullet.  The  brown  rowers  held  their 
oars.  Grief  touched  the  short  fuse  to  his  cig 
arette  and  threw  the  stick.  So  short  was  the 
fuse  that  the  stick  exploded  in  the  instant  after 
it  struck  the  water.  And  in  that  same  instant 
the  bush  exploded  into  life.  There  were  wild  yells 
of  defiance,  and  black  and  naked  bodies  leaped 
forward  like  apes  through  the  mangroves. 

In  the  whaleboat  every  rifle  was  lifted.  Then 
came  the  wait.  A  hundred  blacks,  some  few 
armed  with  ancient  Sniders,  but  the  greater 
portion  armed  with  tomahawks,  fire-hardened 
spears,  and  bone-tipped  arrows,  clustered  on 
the  roots  that  rose  out  of  the  bay.  No  word 
was  spoken.  Each  party  watched  the  other 
across  twenty  feet  of  water.  An  old,  one-eyed 
black,  with  a  bristly  face,  rested  a  Snider  on  his 
hip,  the  muzzle  directed  at  Albright,  who,  in 
turn,  covered  him  back  with  the  Mauser.  A 
couple  of  minutes  of  this  tableau  endured. 
The  stricken  fish  rose  to  the  surface  or  strug 
gled  half-stunned  in  the  clear  depths. 


74  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"It's  all  right,  boys,"  Grief  said  quietly. 
"Put  down  your  guns  and  over  the  side  with 
you.  Mr.  Albright,  toss  the  tobacco  to  that 
one-eyed  brute." 

While  the  Rapa  men  dived  for  the  fish,  Al 
bright  threw  a  bundle  of  trade  tobacco  ashore. 
The  one-eyed  man  nodded  his  head  and  writhed 
his  features  in  an  attempt  at  amiability.  Weap 
ons  were  lowered,  bows  unbent,  and  arrows  put 
back  in  their  quivers. 

"They  know  tobacco,"  Grief  announced,  as 
they  rowed  back  aboard.  "We'll  have  visitors. 
You'll  break  out  a  case  of  tobacco,  Mr.  Albright, 
and  a  few  trade-knives.  There's  a  canoe  now." 

Old  One-Eye,  as  befitted  a  chief  and  leader, 
paddled  out  alone,  facing  peril  for  the  rest  of 
the  tribe.  As  Carlsen  leaned  over  the  rail  to 
help  the  visitor  up,  he  turned  his  head  and  re 
marked  casually: 

"They've  dug  up  the  money,  Mr.  Grief.  The 
old  beggar's  loaded  with  it." 

One-Eye  floundered  down  on  deck,  grinning 
appeasingly  and  failing  to  hide  the  fear  he  had 
overcome  but  which  still  possessed  him.  He 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN       75 

was  lame  of  one  leg,  and  this  was  accounted  for 
by  a  terrible  scar,  inches  deep,  which  ran  down 
the  thigh  from  hip  to  knee.  No  clothes  he  wore 
whatever,  not  even  a  string,  but  his  nose,  per 
forated  in  a  dozen  places  and  each  perforation 
the  setting  for  a  carved  spine  of  bone,  bristled 
like  a  porcupine.  Around  his  neck  and  hang 
ing  down  on  his  dirty  chest  was  a  string  of  gold 
sovereigns.  His  ears  were  hung  with  silver 
half-crowns,  and  from  the  cartilage  separating 
his  nostrils  depended  a  big  English  penny,  tar 
nished  and  green,  but  unmistakable. 

"Hold  on,  Grief,"  Pankburn  said,  with  per 
fectly  assumed  carelessness.  'You  say  they 
know  only  beads  and  tobacco.  Very  well.  You 
follow  my  lead.  They've  found  the  treasure, 
and  we've  got  to  trade  them  out  of  it.  Get  the 
whole  crew  aside  and  lecture  them  that  they  are 
to  be  interested  only  in  the  pennies.  Savve? 
Gold  coins  must  be  beneath  contempt,  and 
silver  coins  merely  tolerated.  Pennies  are  to 
be  the  only  desirable  things." 

Pankburn  took  charge  of  the  trading.  For 
the  penny  in  One-Eye's  nose  he  gave  ten  sticks 


76  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

of  tobacco.  Since  each  stick  cost  David  Grief  a 
cent,  the  bargain  was  manifestly  unfair.  But  for 
the  half-crowns  Pankburn  gave  only  one  stick 
each.  The  string  of  sovereigns  he  refused  to 
consider.  The  more  he  refused,  the  more  One- 
Eye  insisted  on  a  trade.  At  last,  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  irritation  and  anger,  and  as  a  pal 
pable  concession,  Pankburn  gave  two  sticks  for 
the  string,  which  was  composed  of  ten  sov 
ereigns. 

"I  take  my  hat  off  to  you,"  Grief  said  to 
Pankburn  that  night  at  dinner.  "The  situa 
tion  is  patent.  You've  reversed  the  scale  of 
value.  They'll  figure  the  pennies  as  priceless 
possessions  and  the  sovereigns  as  beneath  price. 
Result:  they'll  hang  on  to  the  pennies  and 
force  us  to  trade  for  sovereigns.  Pankburn, 
I  drink  your  health!  Boy!  —  another  cup  of 
tea  for  Mr.  Pankburn." 

VII 

Followed  a  golden  week.  From  dawn  till 
dark  a  row  of  canoes  rested  on  their  paddles 
two  hundred  feet  away.  This  was  the  dead- 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN      77 

line.  Rapa  sailors,  armed  with  rifles,  main 
tained  it.  But  one  canoe  at  a  time  was  per 
mitted  alongside,  and  but  one  black  at  a  time 
was  permitted  to  come  over  the  rail.  Here, 
under  the  awning,  relieving  one  another  in 
hourly  shifts,  the  four  white  men  carried  on  the 
trade.  The  rate  of  exchange  was  that  estab 
lished  by  Pankburn  with  One-Eye.  Five  sov 
ereigns  fetched  a  stick  of  tobacco;  a  hundred 
sovereigns,  twenty  sticks.  Thus,  a  crafty-eyed 
cannibal  would  deposit  on  the  table  a  thousand 
dollars  in  gold,  and  go  back  over  the  rail,  hugely 
satisfied,  with  forty  cents'  worth  of  tobacco  in 
his  hand. 

"Hope  we've  got  enough  tobacco  to  hold 
out,"  Carlsen  muttered  dubiously,  as  another 
case  was  sawed  in  half. 

Albright  laughed. 

"We've  got  fifty  cases  below,"  he  said,  "and 
as  I  figure  it,  three  cases  buy  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  There  was  only  a  million  dollars 
buried,  so  thirty  cases  ought  to  get  it.  Though, 
of  course,  we've  got  to  allow  a  margin  for 
the  silver  and  the  pennies.  That  Ecuadoran 


178  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

bunch  must  have  salted  down  all  the  coin  in 
sight. 

Very  few  pennies  and  shillings  appeared, 
though  Pankburn  continually  and  anxiously 
inquired  for  them.  Pennies  were  the  one  thing 
he  seemed  to  desire,  and  he  made  his  eyes  flash 
covetously  whenever  one  was  produced.  True 
to  his  theory,  the  savages  concluded  that  the 
gold,  being  of  slight  value,  must  be  disposed  of 
first.  A  penny,  worth  fifty  times  as  much  as  a 
sovereign,  was  something  to  retain  and  treas 
ure.  Doubtless,  in  their  jungle-lairs,  the  wise 
old  gray-beards  put  their  heads  together  and 
agreed  to  raise  the  price  on  pennies  when  the 
worthless  gold  was  all  worked  off.  Who  could 
tell?  Mayhap  the  strange  white  men  could  be 
made  to  give  even  twenty  sticks  for  a  priceless 
copper. 

By  the  end  of  the  week  the  trade  went  slack. 
There  was  only  the  slightest  dribble  of  gold. 
An  occasional  penny  was  reluctantly  disposed 
of  for  ten  sticks,  while  several  thousand  dollars 
in  silver  came  in. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  no  trading 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN        79 

was  done.  The  gray-beards  had  matured  their 
plan  and  were  demanding  twenty  sticks  for  a 
penny.  One-Eye  delivered  the  new  rate  of 
exchange.  The  white  men  appeared  to  take  it 
with  great  seriousness,  for  they  stood  together 
debating  in  low  voices.  Had  One-Eye  under 
stood  English  he  would  have  been  enlightened. 

"We've  got  just  a  little  over  eight  hundred 
thousand,  not  counting  the  silver,"  Grief  said. 
"And  that's  about  all  there  is.  The  bush  tribes 
behind  have  most  probably  got  the  other  two 
hundred  thousand.  Return  in  three  months, 
and  the  salt-water  crowd  will  have  traded  back 
for  it;  also  they  will  be  out  of  tobacco  by  that 
time." 

"It  would  be  a  sin  to  buy  pennies,"  Albright 
grinned.  "It  goes  against  the  thrifty  grain  of 
my  trader's  soul." 

"There's  a  whiff  of  land-breeze  stirring," 
Grief  said,  looking  at  Pankburn.  "What  do 
you  say?" 

Pankburn  nodded. 

"Very  well."  Grief  measured  the  faintness 
and  irregularity  of  the  wind  against  his  cheek. 


80  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Mr.  Carlsen,  heave  short,  and  get  off  the 
gaskets.  And  stand  by  with  the  whaleboats 
to  tow.  This  breeze  is  not  dependable." 

He  picked  up  a  part  case  of  tobacco,  contain 
ing  six  or  seven  hundred  sticks,  put  it  in  One- 
Eye's  hands,  and  helped  that  bewildered  savage 
over  the  rail.  As  the  foresail  went  up  the  mast, 
a  wail  of  consternation  arose  from  the  canoes 
lying  along  the  dead-line.  And  as  the  anchor 
broke  out  and  the  Kittiwake's  head  paid  off  in 
the  light  breeze,  old  One-Eye,  daring  the  rifles 
levelled  on  him,  paddled  alongside  and  made 
frantic  signs  of  his  tribe's  willingness  to  trade 
pennies  for  ten  sticks. 

"Boy! — a  drinking  nut,"  Pankburn  called. 

"It's  Sydney  Heads  for  you,"  Grief  said. 
"And  then  what?" 

"I'm  coming  back  with  you  for  that  two.  hun 
dred  thousand,"  Pankburn  answered.  "In  the 
meantime  I'm  going  to  build  an  island  schooner. 
Also,  I'm  going  to  call  those  guardians  of  mine 
before  the  court  to  show  cause  why  my  father's 
money  should  not  be  turned  over  to  me.  Show 
cause?  I'll  show  them  cause  why  it  should.'* 


GOAT  OF  ALOYSIUS  PANKBURN      81 

He  swelled  his  biceps  proudly  under  the  thin 
sleeve,  reached  for  the  two  black  stewards,  and 
put  them  above  his  head  like  a  pair  of  dumb 
bells. 

"Come  on!  Swing  out  on  that  fore-boom- 
tackle!"  Carlsen  shouted  from  aft,  where  the 
mainsail  was  being  winged  out. 

Pankburn  dropped  the  stewards  and  raced 
for  it,  beating  a  Rapa  sailor  by  two  jumps  to 
the  hauling  part. 


Chapter  Three 
THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO 


Of  his  many  schooners,  ketches  and  cutters 
that  nosed  about  among  the  coral  isles  of  the 
South  Seas,  David  Grief  loved  most  the  Rattler 
—  a  yacht-like  schooner  of  ninety  tons  with  so 
swift  a  pair  of  heels  that  she  had  made  herself 
famous,  in  the  old  days,  opium-smuggling  from 
San  Diego  to  Puget  Sound,  raiding  the  seal- 
rookeries  of  Bering  Sea,  and  running  arms  in 
the  Far  East.  A  stench  and  an  abomination 
to  government  officials,  she  had  been  the  joy  of 
all  sailormen,  and  the  pride  of  the  shipwrights 
who  built  her.  Even  now,  after  forty  years  of 
driving,  she  was  still  the  same  old  Rattler ',  fore- 
reaching  in  the  same  marvellous  manner  that 
compelled  sailors  to  see  in  order  to  believe  and 
that  punctuated  many  an  angry  discussion 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATTNO  83 

with  words  and  blows  on  the  beaches  of  all  the 
ports  from  Valparaiso  to  Manila  Bay. 

On  this  night,  close-hauled,  her  big  mainsail 
preposterously  flattened  down,  her  luffs  pulsing 
emptily  on  the  lift  of  each  smooth  swell,  she 
was  sliding  an  easy  four  knots  through  the 
water  on  the  veriest  whisper  of  a  breeze.  For 
an  hour  David  Grief  had  been  leaning  on  the 
rail  at  the  lee  fore-rigging,  gazing  overside  at 
the  steady  phosphorescence  of  her  gait.  The 
faint  back-draught  from  the  headsails  fanned 
his  cheek  and  chest  with  a  wine  of  coolness, 
and  he  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  appreciation  of 
the  schooner's  qualities. 

"Eh!  — She's  a  beauty,  Taute,  a  beauty," 
he  said  to  the  Kanaka  lookout,  at  the  same  time 
stroking  the  teak  of  the  rail  with  an  affectionate 
hand. 

"Ay,  skipper,"  the  Kanaka  answered  in  the 
rich,  big-chested  tones  of  Polynesia.  "Thirty 
years  I  know  ships,  but  never  like  this.  On 
Raiatea  we  call  her  Fanauao. " 

"The  Dayborn,"  Grief  translated  the  love- 
phrase.  "Who  named  her  so?" 


84  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

About  to  answer,  Taute  peered  ahead  with 
sudden  intensity.  Grief  joined  him  in  the 
gaze. 

"Land,  "said  Taute. 

"Yes;  Fuatino,"  Grief  agreed,  his  eyes  still 
fixed  on  the  spot  where  the  star-luminous 
horizon  was  gouged  by  a  blot  of  blackness. 
"It's  all  right.  I'll  tell  the  captain." 

The  Rattler  slid  along  until  the  loom  of  the 
island  could  be  seen  as  well  as  sensed,  until 
the  sleepy  roar  of  breakers  and  the  blatting  of 
goats  could  be  heard,  until  the  wind,  off  the 
land,  was  flower-drenched  with  perfume. 

"If  it  wasn't  a  crevice,  she  could  run  the 
passage  a  night  like  this,"  Captain  Glass  re 
marked  regretfully,  as  he  watched  the  wheel 
lashed  hard  down  by  the  steersman. 

The  Rattler,  run  off  shore  a  mile,  had  been 
hove  to  to  wait  until  daylight  ere  she  attempted 
the  perilous  entrance  to  Fuatino.  It  was  a 
perfect  tropic  night,  with  no  hint  of  rain  or 
squall.  For'ard,  wherever  their  tasks  left  them, 
the  Raiatea  sailors  sank  down  to  sleep  on 
deck.  Aft,  the  captain  and  mate  and  Grief 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  85 

spread  their  beds  with  similar  languid  unconcern. 
They  lay  on  their  blankets,  smoking  and  mur 
muring  sleepy  conjectures  about  Mataara,  the 
Queen  of  Fuatino,  and  about  the  love  affair 
between  her  daughter,  Naumoo,  and  Motu- 
aro. 

"They're  certainly  a  romantic  lot,"  Brown, 
the  mate,  said.  "As  romantic  as  we  whites." 

"As  romantic  as  Pilsach,"  Grief  laughed, 
"and  that  is  going  some.  How  long  ago  was 
it,  Captain,  that  he  jumped  you?" 

"Eleven  years,"  Captain  Glass  grunted  re 
sentfully. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  Brown  pleaded.  "They 
say  he's  never  left  Fuatino  since.  Is  that 
right?" 

"Right  O,"  the  captain  rumbled.  "He's 
in  love  with  his  wife  —  the  little  hussy!  Stole 
him  from  me,  and  as  good  a  sailorman  as  the 
trade  has  ever  seen  —  if  he  is  a  Dutchman. " 

"German,"  Grief  corrected. 

"It's  all  the  same,"  was  the  retort.  "The 
sea  was  robbed  of  a  good  man  that  night  he 
went  ashore  and  Notutu  took  one  look  at  him. 


86  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

I  reckon  they  looked  good  to  each  other.  Be 
fore  you  could  say  skat,  she'd  put  a  wreath  of 
some  kind  of  white  flowers  on  his  head,  and  in 
five  minutes  they  were  off  down  the  beach,  like 
a  couple  of  kids,  holding  hands  and  laughing. 
I  hope  he's  blown  that  big  coral  patch  out  of 
the  channel.  I  always  start  a  sheet  or  two  of 
copper  warping  past. " 

"Go  on  with  the  story,"  Brown  urged. 

"That's  all.  He  was  finished  right  there. 
Got  married  that  night.  Never  came  on  board 
again.  I  looked  him  up  next  day.  Found  him 
in  a  straw  house  in  the  bush,  barelegged,  a 
white  savagev  all  mixed  up  with  flowers  and 
things  and  playing  a  guitar.  Looked  like  a 
bally  ass.  Told  me  to  send  his  things  ashore. 
I  told  him  I'd  see  him  damned  first.  And  that's 
all.  You'll  see  her  to-morrow.  They've  got 
three  kiddies  now  —  wonderful  little  rascals.* 
I've  a  phonograph  down  below  for  him,  and 
about  a  million  records. " 

"And  then  you  made  him  trader?"  the  mate 
inquired  of  Grief. 

"What  else  could  I  do?     Fuatino  is  a  love 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  87 

island,  and  Pilsach  is  a  lover.  He  knows 
the  native,  too  —  one  of  the  best  traders  I've 
got,  or  ever  had.  He's  responsible.  You'll 

See  him  t.n-mniVrmr  " 

man,"  Captain  Glass 
at  his  mate.  "Are  you 
you  are,  on  board  you 
island  of  romantic  in- 
n  love  with  somebody, 
in  the  milk  of  the  cocoa- 
sea.  The  history  of  the 
lousand  years  is  nothing 

^^o  *w^  diiewis.  JL  know.  I've  talked  with 
the  old  men.  And  if  I  catch  you  starting  down 

the  beach  hand  in  hand " 

His  sudden  cessation  caused  both  the  other 
men  to  look  at  him.  They  followed  his  gaze, 
which  passed  across  them  to  the  main  rigging, 
and  saw  what  he  saw,  a  brown  hand  and  arm, 
muscular  and  wet,  being  joined  from  overside 
by  a  second  brown  hand  and  arm.  A  head 
followed,  thatched  with  long  elfin  locks,  and 
then  a  face,  with  roguish  black  eyes,  lined  with 
the  marks  of  wildwood's  laughter. 


/ 


88  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"My  God!"  Brown  breathed.  "It's  a  faun 
—  a  sea-faun." 

"It's  the  Goat  I 

"It  is  Mauriri," 
blood  brother  by  sa 
His  name  is  mine, 

Broad  brown  sh 
chest    rose    above 
seemed  effortless  < 
followed  over  the 
deck.     Brown,  whc 
than  the  mate  of  an  island  bcixvx_- 
chanted.     All  that  he  had  ever  gleaned  from 
the   books   proclaimed   indubitably   the   faun- 
likeness  of  this  visitant  of  the  deep.     "But  a 
sad  faun,"  was  the  young  man's  judgment,  as 
the  golden-brown  woods  god  strode  forward  to 
where  David  Grief  sat  up  with  outstretched  hand. 

"David,"  said  David  Grief. 

"Mauriri,  Big  Brother,"  said  Mauriri. 

And  thereafter,  in  the  custom  of  men  who 
have  pledged  blood  brotherhood,  each  called 
the  other,  not  by  the  other's  name,  but  by  his 
own.  Also,  they  talked  in  the  Polynesian 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  89 

tongue  of  Fuatino,  and  Brown  could  only  sit 
and  guess. 

"A  long  swim  to  say  talqfa,"  Grief  said,  as 
the  other  sat  and  streamed  water  on  the  deck. 

"Many  days  and  nights  have  I  watched  for 
your  coming,  Big  Brother,"  Mauriri  replied. 
"I  have  sat  on  the  Big  Rock,  where  the  dyna 
mite  is  kept,  of  which  I  have  been  made  keeper. 
[  saw  you  come  up  to  the  entrance  and  run 
Sack  into  darkness.  I  knew  you  waited  till 
Horning,  and  I  followed.  Great  trouble  has 
3ome  upon  us.  Mataara  has  cried  these  many 
Jays  for  your  coming.  She  is  an  old  woman, 
and  Motauri  is  dead,  and  she  is  sad." 

"Did  he  marry  Naumoo?"  Grief  asked,  after 
he  had  shaken  his  head  and  sighed  by  the 
custom. 

"Yes.  In  the  end  they  ran  to  live  with  the 
goats,  till  Mataara  forgave,  when  they  returned 
to  live  with  her  in  the  Big  House.  But  he  is  now 
dead,  and  Naumoo  soon  will  die.  Great  is  our 
trouble,  Big  Brother.  Tori  is  dead,  and  Tati- 
Tori,  and  Petoo,  and  Nari,  and  Pilsach,  and 
others." 


90  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"  Pilsach,  too ! "  Grief  exclaimed.  "  Has  there 
been  a  sickness?" 

"There  has  been  much  killing.  Listen,  Big 
Brother.  Three  weeks  ago  a  strange  schoone: 
came.  From  the  Big  Rock  I  saw  her  topsail: 
above  the  sea.  She  towed  in  with  her  boats 
but  they  did  not  warp  by  the  big  patch,  and  sh< 
pounded  many  times.  She  is  now  on  the  beach 
where  they  are  strengthening  the  broken  tim 
bers.  There  are  eight  white  men  on  board 
They  have  women  from  some  island  far  to  th< 
east.  The  women  talk  a  language  in  many  way 
like  ours,  only  different.  But  we  can  under 
stand.  They  say  they  were  stolen  by  the  me] 
on  the  schooner.  We  do  not  know,  but  the; 
sing  and  dance  and  are  happy." 

"And  the  men?"  Grief  interrupted. 

"They  talk  French.  I  know,  for  there  was 
a  mate  on  your  schooner  who  talked  French 
long  ago.  There  are  two  chief  men,  and  they 
do  not  look  like  the  others.  They  have  blue 
eyes  like  you,  and  they  are  devils.  One  is  a 
bigger  devil  than  the  other.  The  other  six 
are  also  devils.  They  do  not  pay  us  for  our 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  91 

yams,  and  taro,  and  breadfruit.  They  take 
everything  from  us,  and  if  we  complain  they 
kill  us.  Thus  was  killed  Tori,  and  Tati-Tori, 
and  Petoo,  and  others.  We  cannot  fight,  for 
we  have  no  guns  —  only  two  or  three  old 
guns. 

"They  ill-treat  our  women.  Thus  was  killed 
Motuaro,  who  made  defence  of  Naumoo, 
whom  they  have  now  taken  on  board  their 
schooner.  It  was  because  of  this  that  Pilsach 
was  killed.  Him  the  chief  of  the  two  chief  men, 
the  Big  Devil,  shot  once  in  his  whaleboat,  and 
twice  when  he  tried  to  crawl  up  the  sand  of  the 
beach.  Pilsach  was  a  brave  man,  and  Notutu 
now  sits  in  the  house  and  cries  without  end. 
Many  of  the  people  are  afraid,  and  have  run 
to  live  with  the  goats.  But  there  is  not  food 
for  all  in  the  high  mountains.  And  the  men 
will  not  go  out  and  fish,  and  they  work  no 
more  in  the  gardens  because  of  the  devils  who 
take  all  they  have.  And  we  are  ready  to 
fight. 

"Big  Brother,  we  need  guns,  and  much  am 
munition.  I  sent  word  before  I  swam  out  to 


92  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

you,  and  the  men  are  waiting.  The  strange 
white  men  do  not  know  you  are  come.  Give 
me  a  boat,  and  the  guns,  and  I  will  go  back 
before  the  sun.  And  when  you  come  to-mor 
row  we  will  be  ready  for  the  word  from  you  to 
kill  the  strange  white  men.  They  must  be 
killed.  Big  Brother,  you  have  ever  been  of 
the  blood  with  us,  and  the  men  and  women 
have  prayed  to  many  gods  for  your  coming. 
And  you  are  come. " 

"I  will  go  in  the  boat  with  you,"  Grief 
said. 

"No,  Big  Brother,"  was  Mauriri's  reply. 
'You  must  be  with  the  schooner.  The  strange 
white  men  will  fear  the  schooner,  not  us.  We 
will  have  the  guns,  and  they  will  not  know.  It 
is  only  when  they  see  your  schooner  come  that 
they  will  be  alarmed.  Send  the  young  man 
there  with  the  boat. " 

So  it  was  that  Brown,  thrilling  with  all 
the  romance  and  adventure  he  had  read  and 
guessed  and  never  lived,  took  his  place  in 
the  sternsheets  of  a  whaleboat,  loaded  with 
rifles  and  cartridges,  rowed  by  four  Raiatea 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  93 

sailors,  steered  by  a  golden-brown,  sea-swim 
ming  faun,  and  directed  through  the  warm 
tropic  darkness  toward  the  half-mythical  love 
island  of  Fuatino,  which  had  been  invaded  by 
twentieth  century  pirates. 

II 

If  a  line  be  drawn  between  Jaluit,  in  the 
Marshall  Group,  and  Bougainville,  in  the  Sol 
omons,  and  if  this  line  be  bisected  at  two  degrees 
south  of  the  equator  by  a  line  drawn  from 
Ukuor,  in  the  Carolines,  the  high  island  of 
Fuatino  will  be  raised  in  that  sun-washed 
stretch  of  lonely  sea.  Inhabited  by  a  stock 
kindred  to  the  Hawaiian,  the  Samoan,  the 
Tahitian,  and  the  Maori,  Fuatino  becomes  the 
apex  of  the  wedge  driven  by  Polynesia  far 
to  the  west  and  in  between  Melanesia  and 
Micronesia.  And  it  was  Fuatino  that  David 
Grief  raised  next  morning,  two  miles  to  the 
east  and  in  direct  line  with  the  rising  sun. 
The  same  whisper  of  a  breeze  held,  and  the 
Rattler  slid  through  the  smooth  sea  at  a  rate 
that  would  have  been  eminently  proper  for  an 


94  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

island  schooner  had  the  breeze  been  thrice  as 
strong. 

Fuatino  was  nothing  else  than  an  ancient 
crater,  thrust  upward  from  the  sea-bottom  by 
some  primordial  cataclysm.  The  western  por 
tion,  broken  and  crumbled  to  sea  level,  was  the 
entrance  to  the  crater  itself,  which  constituted 
the  harbour.  Thus,  Fuatino  was  like  a  rugged 
horseshoe,  the  heel  pointing  to  the  west.  And 
into  the  opening  at  the  heel  the  Rattler  steered. 
Captain  Glass,  binoculars  in  hand  and  peering 
at  the  chart  made  by  himself,  which  was  spread 
on  top  the  cabin,  straightened  up  with  an  ex 
pression  on  his  face  that  was  half  alarm,  half 
resignation. 

"It's  coming,"  he  said.  "Fever.  It  wasn't 
due  till  to-morrow.  It  always  hits  me  hard, 
Mr.  Grief.  In  five  minutes  I'll  be  off  my  head. 
You'll  have  to  con  the  schooner  in.  Boy!  Get 
my  bunk  ready!  Plenty  of  blankets!  Fill 
that  hot- water  bottle!  It's  so  calm,  Mr.  Grief, 
that  I  think  you  can  pass  the  big  patch  without 
warping.  Take  the  leading  wind  and  shoot  her. 
She's  the  only  craft  in  the  South  Pacific  that 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  95 

can  do  it,  and  I  know  you  know  the  trick.  You 
can  scrape  the  Big  Rock  by  just  watching  out 
for  the  main  boom. " 

He  had  talked  rapidly,  almost  like  a  drunken 
man,  as  his  reeling  brain  battled  with  the  rising 
shock  of  the  malarial  stroke.  When  he  stum 
bled  toward  the  companionway,  his  face  was 
purpling  and  mottling  as  if  attacked  by  some 
monstrous  inflammation  or  decay.  His  eyes 
were  setting  in  a  glassy  bulge,  his  hands  shak 
ing,  his  teeth  clicking  in  the  spasms  of  chill. 

"Two  hours  to  get  the  sweat,"  he  chattered 
with  a  ghastly  grin.  "And  a  couple  more  and 
I'll  be  all  right.  I  know  the  damned  thing  to 
the  last  minute  it  runs  its  course.  Y-y-you 
t-t-take  ch-ch-ch-ch ' 

His  voice  faded  away  in  a  weak  stutter  as  he 
collapsed  down  into  the  cabin  and  his  em 
ployer  took  charge.  The  Rattler  was  just 
entering  the  passage.  The  heels  of  the  horse 
shoe  island  were  two  huge  mountains  of  rock  a 
thousand  feet  high,  each  almost  broken  off 
from  the  mainland  and  connected  with  it  by  a 
low  and  narrow  peninsula.  Between  the  heels 


96  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

was  a  half-mile  stretch,  all  but  blocked  by  a  reef 
of  coral  extending  across  from  the  south  heel. 
The  passage,  which  Captain  Glass  had  called  a 
crevice,  twisted  into  this  reef,  curved  directly 
to  the  north  heel,  and  ran  along  the  base  of  the 
perpendicular  rock.  At  this  point,  with  the 
main-boom  almost  grazing  the  rock  on  the  port 
side,  Grief,  peering  down  on  the  starboard  side, 
could  see  bottom  less  than  two  fathoms  beneath 
and  shoaling  steeply.  With  a  whaleboat  tow 
ing  for  steerage  and  as  a  precaution  against 
back-draughts  from  the  cliff,  and  taking  ad 
vantage  of  a  fan  of  breeze,  he  shook  the  Rattler 
full  into  it  and  glided  by  the  big  coral  patch 
without  warping.  As  it  was,  he  just  scraped, 
but  so  softly  as  not  to  start  the  copper. 

The  harbour  of  Fuatino  opened  before  him. 
It  was  a  circular  sheet  of  water,  five  miles  in 
diameter,  rimmed  with  white  coral  beaches, 
from  which  the  verdure-clad  slopes  rose  swiftly 
to  the  frowning  crater  walls.  The  crests  of  the 
walls  were  saw-toothed,  volcanic  peaks,  capped 
and  halo'd  with  captive  trade-wind  clouds. 
Every  nook  and  crevice  of  the  disintegrating 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  97 

lava  gave  foothold  to  creeping,  climbing  vines 
and  trees  —  a  green  foam  of  vegetation.  Thin 
streams  of  water,  that  were  mere  films  of  mist, 
swayed  and  undulated  downward  in  sheer 
descents  of  hundreds  of  feet.  And  to  complete 
the  magic  of  the  place,  the  warm,  moist  air  was 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  the  yellow-blossomed 
cassi. 

Fanning  along  against  light,  vagrant  airs, 
the  Rattler  worked  in.  Calling  the  whale- 
boat  on  board,  Grief  searched  out  the  shore 
with  his  binoculars.  There  was  no  life.  In  the 
hot  blaze  of  tropic  sun  the  place  slept.  There 
was  no  sign  of  welcome.  Up  the  beach,  on  the 
north  shore,  where  the  fringe  of  cocoanut  palms 
concealed  the  village,  he  could  see  the  black 
bows  of  the  canoes  in  the  canoe-houses.  On 
the  beach,  on  even  keel,  rested  the  strange 
schooner.  Nothing  moved  on  board  of  her  or 
around  her.  Not  until  the  beach  lay  fifty 
yards  away  did  Grief  let  go  the  anchor  in  forty 
fathoms.  Out  in  the  middle,  long  years  before, 
he  had  sounded  three  hundred  fathoms  without 
reaching  bottom,  which  was  to  be  expected  of  a 


98  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

healthy  crater-pit  like  Fuatino.  As  the  chain 
roared  and  surged  through  the  hawse-pipe  he 
noticed  a  number  of  native  women,  lusciously 
large  as  only  those  of  Polynesia  are,  in  flowing 
ahu's,  flower-crowned,  stream  out  on  the  deck 
of  the  schooner  on  the  beach.  Also,  and  what 
they  did  not  see,  he  saw  from  the  galley  the 
squat  figure  of  a  man  steal  for'ard,  drop  to 
the  sand,  and  dive  into  the  green  screen  of  bush. 

While  the  sails  were  furled  and  gasketed, 
awnings  stretched,  and  sheets  and  tackles 
coiled  harbour  fashion,  David  Grief  paced  the 
deck  and  looked  vainly  for  a  flutter  of  life  else 
where  than  on  the  strange  schooner.  Once, 
beyond  any  doubt,  he  heard  the  distant  crack  of 
a  rifle  in  the  direction  of  the  Big  Rock.  There 
were  no  further  shots,  and  he  thought  of  it  as 
some  hunter  shooting  a  wild  goat. 

At  the  end  of  another  hour  Captain  Glass, 
under  a  mountain  of  blankets,  had  ceased 
shivering  and  was  in  the  inferno  of  a  profound 
sweat. 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  half  an  hour,"  he  said 
weakly. 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  99 

"Very  well,"  Grief  answered.  "The  place 
is  dead,  and  I'm  going  ashore  to  see  Mataara 
and  find  out  the  situation." 

"It's  a  tough  bunch;  keep  your  eyes  open," 
the  captain  warned  him.  "If  you're  not  back 
in  an  hour,  send  word  off." 

Grief  took  the  steering-sweep,  and  four  of 
his  Raiatea  men  bent  to  the  oars.  As  they 
landed  on  the  beach  he  looked  curiously  at  the 
women  under  the  schooner's  awning.  He  waved 
his  hand  tentatively,  and  they,  after  giggling, 
waved  back. 

"Talofa!"  he  called. 

They  understood  the  greeting,  but  replied, 
"/orarca,"  and  he  knew  they  came  from  the 
Society  Group. 

"Huahine,"  one  of  his  sailors  unhesitatingly 
named  their  island.  Grief  asked  them  whence 
they  came,  and  with  giggles  and  laughter  they 
replied,  "Huahine." 

"It  looks  like  old  Dupuy's  schooner,"  Grief 
said,  in  Tahitian,  speaking  in  a  low  voice. 
"Don't  look  too  hard.  What  do  you  think,  eh? 
Isn't  it  the  Valetta?" 


100  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

As  the  men  climbed  out  and  lifted  the  whale- 
boat  slightly  up  the  beach  they  stole  careless 
glances  at  the  vessel. 

"It  is  the  Valetta,"  Taute  said.  "She  car 
ried  her  topmast  away  seven  years  ago.  At 
Papeete  they  rigged  a  new  one.  It  was  ten 
feet  shorter.  That  is  the  one. " 

"Go  over  and  talk  with  the  women,  you  boys. 
You  can  almost  see  Huahine  from  Raiatea, 
and  you'll  be  sure  to  know  some  of  them. 
Find  out  all  you  can.  And  if  any  of  the  white 
men  show  up,  don't  start  a  row." 

An  army  of  hermit  crabs  scuttled  and  rustled 
away  before  him  as  he  advanced  up  the  beach, 
but  under  the  palms  no  pigs  rooted  and  grunted. 
The  cocoanuts  lay  where  they  had  fallen,  and 
at  the  copra-sheds  there  were  no  signs  of  curing. 
Industry  and  tidiness  had  vanished.  Grass 
house  after  grass  house  he  found  deserted.  Once 
he  came  upon  an  old  man,  blind,  toothless, 
prodigiously  wrinkled,  who  sat  in  the  shade 
and  babbled  with  fear  when  he  spoke  to  him. 
It  was  as  if  the  place  had  been  struck  with  the 
plague,  was  Grief's  thought,  as  he  finally  ap- 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  101 

preached  the  Big  House.  All  was  desolation 
and  disarray.  There  were  no  flower-crowned 
men  and  maidens,  no  brown  babies  rolling  in 
the  shade  of  the  avocado  trees.  In  the  door 
way,  crouched  and  rocking  back  and  forth,  sat 
Mataara,  the  old  queen.  She  wept  afresh  at 
sight  of  him,  divided  between  the  tale  of  her 
woe  and  regret  that  no  follower  was  left  to  dis 
pense  to  him  her  hospitality. 

"And  so  they  have  taken  Naumoo,"  she 
finished.  "Motauri  is  dead.  My  people  have 
fled  and  are  starving  with  the  goats.  And  there 
is  no  one  to  open  for  you  even  a  drinking  cocoa- 
nut.  O  Brother,  your  white  brothers  be  devils. " 

"They  are  no  brothers  of  mine,  Mataara," 
Grief  consoled.  "They  are  robbers  and  pigs, 
and  I  shall  clean  the  island  of  them " 

He  broke  off  to  whirl  half  around,  his  hand 
flashing  to  his  waist  and  back  again,  the  big 
Colt's  levelled  at  the  figure  of  a  man,  bent 
double,  that  rushed  at  him  from  out  of  the 
trees.  He  did  not  pull  the  trigger,  nor  did  the 
man  pause  till  he  had  flung  himself  headlong 
at  Grief's  feet  and  begun  to  pour  forth  a  stream 


102  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

of  uncouth  and  awful  noises.  He  recognized 
the  creature  as  the  one  he  had  seen  steal  from 
the  Valetta  and  dive  into  the  bush;  but  not 
until  he  raised  him  up  and  watched  the  contor 
tions  of  the  hare-lipped  mouth  could  he  under 
stand  what  he  uttered. 

"Save  me,  master,  save  me!"  the  man 
yammered,  in  English,  though  he  was  unmis 
takably  a  South  Sea  native.  "I  know  you! 
Save  me!" 

And  thereat  he  broke  into  a  wild  outpour  of 
incoherence  that  did  not  cease  until  Grief 
seized  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him  into 
silence. 

"I  know  you,"  Grief  said.  "You  were  cook 
in  the  French  Hotel  at  Papeete  two  years  ago. 
Everybody  called  you  'Hare-Lip." 

The  man  nodded  violently. 

"I  am  now  cook  of  the  Valetta,"  he  spat  and 
spluttered,  his  mouth  writhing  in  a  fearful 
struggle  with  its  defect.  "I  know  you.  I  saw 
you  at  the  hotel.  I  saw  you  at  Lavina's.  I 
saw  you  on  the  KittiwaJce.  I  saw  you  at  the 
Mariposa  wharf.  You  are  Captain  Grief,  and 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  103 

you  will  save  me.  Those  men  are  devils. 
They  killed  Captain  Dupuy.  Me  they  made 
kill  half  the  crew.  Two  they  shot  from  the 
cross-trees.  The  rest  they  shot  in  the  water. 
I  knew  them  all.  They  stole  the  girls  from 
Huahine.  They  added  to  their  strength  with 
jail-men  from  Noumea.  They  robbed  the  trad 
ers  in  the  New  Hebrides.  They  killed  the 
trader  at  Vanikori,  and  stole  two  women  there. 
They-  -" 

But  Grief  no  longer  heard.  Through  the 
trees,  from  the  direction  of  the  harbour,  came 
a  rattle  of  rifles,  and  he  started  on  the  run  for 
the  beach.  Pirates  from  Tahiti  and  convicts 
from  New  Caledonia!  A  pretty  bunch  of 
desperadoes  that  even  now  was  attacking  his 
schooner.  Hare-Lip  followed,  still  spluttering 
and  spitting  his  tale  of  the  white  devils'  doings. 

The  rifle-firing  ceased  as  abruptly  as  it  had 
begun,  but  Grief  ran  on,  perplexed  by  ominous 
conjectures,  until,  in  a  turn  of  the  path,  he  en 
countered  Mauriri  running  toward  him  from 
the  beach. 

"Big  Brother,"  the  Goat  Man  panted,  "I 


104  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

was  too  late.  They  have  taken  your  schooner. 
Come!  For  now  they  will  seek  for  you." 

He  started  back  up  the  path  away  from  the 
beach. 

"Where  is  Brown?"  Grief  demanded. 

"  On  the  Big  Rock.  I  will  tell  you  afterward. 
Come  now!" 

"But  my  men  in  the  whaleboat?" 

Mauriri  was  in  an  agony  of  apprehension. 

"They  are  with  the  women  on  the  strange 
schooner.  They  will  not  be  killed.  I  tell  you 
true.  The  devils  want  sailors.  But  you  they 
will  kill.  Listen ! "  From  the  water,  in  a  cracked 
tenor  voice,  came  a  French  hunting  song. 
"They  are  landing  on  the  beach.  They  have 
taken  your  schooner  —  that  I  saw.  Come !" 

Ill 

Careless  of  his  own  life  and  skin,  neverthe 
less  David  Grief  was  possessed  of  no  false  hardi 
hood.  He  knew  when  to  fight  and  when  to 
run,  and  that  this  was  the  time  for  running  he 
had  no  doubt.  Up  the  path,  past  the  old  men 
sitting  in  the  shade,  past  Mataara  crouched  in 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  105 

the  doorway  of  the  Big  House,  he  followed  at 
the  heels  of  Mauriri.  At  his  own  heels,  dog- 
like,  plodded  Hare-Lip.  From  behind  came  the 
cries  of  the  hunters,  but  the  pace  Mauriri  led 
them  was  heartbreaking.  The  broad  path  nar 
rowed,  swung  to  the  right,  and  pitched  upward. 
The  last  grass  house  was  left,  and  through  high 
thickets  of  cassi  and  swarms  of  great  golden 
wasps  the  way  rose  steeply  until  it  became  a 
goat-track.  Pointing  upward  to  a  bare  shoulder 
of  volcanic  rock,  Mauriri  indicated  the  trail 
across  its  face. 

"Past  that  we  are  safe,  Big  Brother,"  he 
said.  "The  white  devils  never  dare  it,  for 
there  are  rocks  we  roll  down  on  their  heads, 
and  there  is  no  other  path.  Always  do  they 
stop  here  and  shoot  when  we  cross  the  rock. 
Come!" 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  they  paused  where 
the  trail  went  naked  on  the  face  of  the  rock. 

"Wait,  and  when  you  come,  come  quickly," 
Mauriri  cautioned. 

He  sprang  into  the  blaze  of  sunlight,  and  from 
below  several  rifles  pumped  rapidly.  Bullets 


106  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

smacked  about  him,  and  puffs  of  stone-dust 
flew  out,  but  he  won  safely  across.  Grief  fol 
lowed,  and  so  near  did  one  bullet  come  that  the 
dust  of  its  impact  stung  his  cheek.  Nor  was 
Hare-Lip  struck,  though  he  essayed  the  passage 
more  slowly. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day,  on  the  greater  heights, 
they  lay  in  a  lava  glen  where  terraced  taro  and 
papaia  grew.  And  here  Grief  made  his  plans 
and  learned  the  fulness  of  the  situation. 

"It  was  ill  luck,"  Mauriri  said.  "Of  all 
nights  this  one  night  was  selected  by  the  white 
devils  to  go  fishing.  It  was  dark  as  we  came 
through  the  passage.  They  were  in  boats  and 
canoes.  Always  do  they  have  their  rifles  with 
them.  One  Raiatea  man  they  shot.  Brown 
was  very  brave.  We  tried  to  get  by  to  the  top 
of  the  bay,  but  they  headed  us  off,  and  we  were 
driven  in  between  the  Big  Rock  and  the  vil 
lage.  We  saved  the  guns  and  all  the  ammuni 
tion,  but  they  got  the  boat.  Thus  they  learned 
of  your  coming.  Brown  is  now  on  this  side 
of  the  Big  Rock  with  the  guns  and  the  ammu 
nition." 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  107 

"But  why  didn't  he  go  over  the  top  of  the 
Big  Rock  and  give  me  warning  as  I  came  in 
from  the  sea?"  Grief  criticised. 

"They  knew  not  the  way.  Only  the  goats 
and  I  know  the  way.  And  this  I  forgot,  for  I 
crept  through  the  bush  to  gain  the  water  and 
swim  to  you.  But  the  devils  were  in  the  bush 
shooting  at  Brown  and  the  Raiatea  men; 
and  me  they  hunted  till  daylight,  and  through 
the  morning  they  hunted  me  there  in  the  low- 
lying  land.  Then  you  came  in  your  schooner, 
and  they  watched  till  you  went  ashore,  and  I 
got  away  through  the  bush,  but  you  were  al 
ready  ashore." 

"You  fired  that  shot?" 

:<  Yes;  to  warn  you.  But  they  were  wise  and 
would  not  shoot  back,  and  it  was  my  last  car 
tridge." 

"Now  you,  Hare-Lip?"  Grief  said  to  the  Va- 
lettcfs  cook. 

His  tale  was  long  and  painfully  detailed. 
For  a  year  he  had  been  sailing  out  of  Tahiti 
and  through  the  Paumotus  on  the  Valetta. 
Old  Dupuy  was  owner  and  captain.  On  his 


108  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

last  cruise  he  had  shipped  two  strangers  in 
Tahiti  as  mate  and  supercargo.  Also,  another 
stranger  he  carried  to  be  his  agent  on  Fanriki. 
Raoul  Van  Asveld  and  Carl  Lepsius  were  the 
names  of  the  mate  and  supercargo. 

"They  are  brothers,  I  know,  for  I  have  heard 
them  talk  in  the  dark,  on  deck,  when  they 
thought  no  one  listened,"  Hare-Lip  explained. 

The  Valetta  cruised  through  the  Low  Islands, 
picking  up  shell  and  pearls  at  Dupuy's  stations. 
Frans  Amundson,  the  third  stranger,  relieved 
Pierre  Gollard  at  Fanriki.  Pierre  Gollard  came 
on  board  to  go  back  to  Tahiti.  The  natives  of 
Fanriki  said  he  had  a  quart  of  pearls  to  turn 
over  to  Dupuy.  The  first  night  out  from  Fan 
riki  there  was  shooting  in  the  cabin.  Then 
the  bodies  of  Dupuy  and  Pierre  Gollard  were 
thrown  overboard.  The  Tahitian  sailors  fled 
to  the  forecastle.  For  two  days,  with  nothing 
to  eat  and  the  Valetta  hove  to,  they  remained 
below.  Then  Raoul  Van  Asveld  put  poison 
in  the  meal  he  made  Hare-Lip  cook  and  carry 
for'ard.  Half  the  sailors  died. 

"He  had  a  rifle  pointed  at  me,  master;  what 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  109 

could  I  do?"  Hare-Lip  whimpered.  "Of  the 
rest,  two  went  up  the  rigging  and  were  shot. 
Fanriki  was  ten  miles  away.  The  others  went 
overboard  to  swim.  They  were  shot  as  they 
swam.  I,  only,  lived,  and  the  two  devils;  for 
me  they  wanted  to  cook  for  them.  That  day, 
with  the  breeze,  they  went  back  to  Fanrika 
and  took  on  Frans  Amundson,  for  he  was  one 
of  them." 

Then  followed  Hare-Lip's  nightmare  expe 
riences  as  the  schooner  wandered  on  the  long 
reaches  to  the  westward.  He  was  the  one  liv 
ing  witness  and  knew  they  would  have  killed 
him  had  he  not  been  the  cook.  At  Noumea 
five  convicts  had  joined  them.  Hare-Lip  was 
never  permitted  ashore  at  any  of  the  islands, 
and  Grief  was  the  first  outsider  to  whom  he 
had  spoken. 

"And  now  they  will  kill  me,"  Hare-Lip 
spluttered,  "for  they  will  know  I  have  told  you. 
Yet  am  I  not  all  a  coward,  and  I  will  stay  with 
you,  master,  and  die  with  you. " 

The  Goat  Man  shook  his  head  and  stood  up. 

"Lie  here  and  rest,"  he  said  to  Grief.     "It 


110  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

will  be  a  long  swim  to-night.  As  for  this  cook- 
man,  I  will  take  him  now  to  the  higher  places 
where  my  brothers  live  with  the  goats." 

IV 

"It  is  well  that  you  swim  as  a  man  should, 
Big  Brother, "  Mauriri  whispered. 

From  the  lava  glen  they  had  descended  to 
the  head  of  the  bay  and  taken  to  the  water. 
They  swam  softly,  without  splash,  Mauriri  in 
the  lead.  The  black  walls  of  the  crater  rose 
about  them  till  it  seemed  they  swam  on  the 
bottom  of  a  great  bowl.  Above  was  the  sky 
of  faintly  luminous  star-dust.  Ahead  they 
could  see  the  light  which  marked  the  Rattler, 
and  from  her  deck,  softened  by  distance,  came 
a  gospel  hymn  played  on  the  phonograph  in 
tended  for  Pilsach. 

The  two  swimmers  bore  to  the  left,  away 
from  the  captured  schooner.  Laughter  and 
song  followed  on  board  after  the  hymn,  then 
the  phonograph  started  again.  Grief  grinned 
to  himself  at  the  appositeness  of  it  as  "Lead, 
Kindly  Light, "  floated  out  over  the  dark  water. 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  111 

"We  must  take  the  passage  and  land  on  the 
Big  Rock,"  Mauriri  whispered.  "The  devils 
are  holding  the  low  land.  Listen!" 

Half  a  dozen  rifle  shots,  at  irregular  intervals, 
attested  that  Brown  still  held  the  Rock  and 
that  the  pirates  had  invested  the  narrow  penin 
sula. 

At  the  end  of  another  hour  they  swam  under 
the  frowning  loom  of  the  Big  Rock.  Mauriri, 
feeling  his  way,  led  the  landing  in  a  crevice, 
up  which  for  a  hundred  feet  they  climbed  to  a 
narrow  ledge. 

"Stay  here,"  said  Mauriri.  "I  go  to  Brown. 
In  the  morning  I  shall  return. " 

"I  will  go  with  you,  Brother,"  Grief  said. 

Mauriri  laughed  in  the  darkness. 

"Even  you,  Big  Brother,  cannot  do  this  thing. 
I  am  the  Goat  Man,  and  I  only,  of  all  Fuatino, 
can  go  over  the  Big  Rock  in  the  night.  Further 
more,  it  will  be  the  first  time  that  even  I  have 
done  it.  Put  out  your  hand.  You  feel  it? 
That  is  where  Pilsach's  dynamite  is  kept.  Lie 
close  beside  the  wall  and  you  may  sleep  without 
falling.  I  go  now." 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

And  high  above  the  sounding  surf,  on  a 
narrow  shelf  beside  a  ton  of  dynamite,  David 
Grief  planned  his  campaign,  then  rested  his 
cheek  on  his  arm  and  slept. 

In  the  morning,  when  Mauriri  led  him  over 
the  summit  of  the  Big  Rock,  David  Grief  un 
derstood  why  he  could  not  have  done  it  in  the 
night.  Despite  the  accustomed  nerve  of  a 
sailor  for  height  and  precarious  clinging,  he 
marvelled  that  he  was  able  to  do  it  in  the  broad 
light  of  day.  There  were  places,  always  under 
minute  direction  of  Mauriri,  that  he  leaned 
forward,  falling,  across  hundred-foot-deep  crev 
ices,  until  his  outstretched  hands  struck  a  grip 
on  the  opposing  wall  and  his  legs  could  then 
be  drawn  across  after.  Once,  there  was  a  ten- 
foot  leap,  above  half  a  thousand  feet  of  yawning 
emptiness  and  down  a  fathom's  length  to  a 
meagre  foothold.  And  he,  despite  his  cool  head, 
lost  it  another  time  on  a  shelf,  a  scant  twelve 
inches  wide,  where  all  hand-holds  seemed  to  fail 
him.  And  Mauriri,  seeing  him  sway,  swung  his 
own  body  far  out  and  over  the  gulf  and  passed 
him,  at  the  same  time  striking  him  sharply  on 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  113 

the  back  to  brace  his  reeling  brain.  Then  it 
was,  and  forever  after,  that  he  fully  knew  why 
Mauriri  had  been  named  the  Goat  Man. 


The  defence  of  the  Big  Rock  had  its  good 
points  and  its  defects.  Impregnable  to  as 
sault,  two  men  could  hold  it  against  ten  thou 
sand.  Also,  it  guarded  the  passage  to  open  sea. 
The  two  schooners,  Raoul  Van  Asveld,  and  his 
cutthroat  following  were  bottled  up.  Grief, 
with  the  ton  of  dynamite,  which  he  had  re 
moved  higher  up  the  rock,  was  master.  This 
he  demonstrated,  one  morning,  when  the 
schooners  attempted  to  put  to  sea.  The  Valetta 
led,  the  whaleboat  towing  her  manned  by 
captured  Fuatino  men.  Grief  and  the  Goat 
Man  peered  straight  down  from  a  safe  rock- 
shelter,  three  hundred  feet  above.  Their  rifles 
were  beside  them,  also  a  glowing  fire-stick  and 
a  big  bundle  of  dynamite  sticks  with  fuses  and 
decanators  attached.  As  the  whaleboat  came 
beneath,  Mauriri  shook  his  head. 

"They  are  our  brothers.     We  cannot  shoot." 


114  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

For'ard,  on  the  Valetta,  were  several  of  Grief's 
own  Raiatea  sailors.  Aft  stood  another  at  the 
wheel.  The  pirates  were  below,  or  on  the  other 
schooner,  with  the  exception  of  one  who  stood, 
rifle  in  hand,  amidships.  For  protection  he  held 
Naumoo,  the  Queen's  daughter,  close  to  him. 

"That  is  the  chief  devil,"  Mauriri  fwhispered, 
"and  his  eyes  are  blue  like  yours.  ]He  is  a 
terrible  man.  See!  He  holds  Naumoo  that  we 
may  not  shoot  him. " 

A  light  air  and  a  slight  tide  were  making  into 
the  passage,  and  the  schooner's  progress  was 
slow. 

"Do  you  speak  English?"  Grief  called  down. 

The  man  startled,  half  lifted  his  rifle  to  the 
perpendicular,  and  looked  up.  There  was  some 
thing  quick  and  catlike  in  his  movements,  and 
in  his  burned  blond  face  a  fighting  eagerness.  It 
was  the  face  of  a  killer. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.     "What  do  you  want?" 

"Turn  back,  or  I'll  blow  your  schooner  up," 
Grief  warned.  He  blew  on  the  fire-stick  and 
whispered,  "Tell  Naumoo  to  break  away  from 
him  and  run  aft. ' 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  115 

From  the  Rattler,  close  astern,  rifles  cracked, 
and  bullets  spatted  against  the  rock.  Van 
Asveld  laughed  defiantly,  and  Mauriri  called 
down  in  the  native  tongue  to  the  woman. 
When  directly  beneath,  Grief,  watching,  saw 
her  jerk  away  from  the  man.  On  the  instant 
Grief  touched  the  fire-stick  to  the  match-head 
in  the  split  end  of  the  short  fuse,  sprang  into 
view  on  the  face  of  the  rock,  and  dropped  the 
dynamite.  Van  Asveld  had  managed  to  catch 
the  girl  and  was  struggling  with  her.  The 
Goat  Man  held  a  rifle  on  him  and  waited  a 
chance.  The  dynamite  struck  the  deck  in  a 
compact  package,  bounded,  and  rolled  into 
the  port  scupper.  Van  Asveld  saw  it  and 
hesitated,  then  he  and  the  girl  ran  aft  for  their 
lives.  The  Goat  Man  fired,  but  splintered  the 
corner  of  the  galley.  The  spattering  of  bullets 
from  the  Rattler  increased,  and  the  two  on  the 
rock  crouched  low  for  shelter  and  waited. 
Mauriri  tried  to  see  what  was  happening  be 
low,  but  Grief  held  him  back. 

"The  fuse  was  too  long,"  he  said.  "I'll 
know  better  next  time." 


116  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

It  was  half  a  minute  before  the  explosion 
came.  What  happened  afterward,  for  some 
little  time,  they  could  not  tell,  for  the  Rattler's 
marksmen  had  got  the  range  and  were  maintain 
ing  a  steady  fire.  Once,  fanned  by  a  couple  of 
bullets,  Grief  risked  a  peep.  The  Valetta,  her  port 
deck  and  rail  torn  away,  was  listing  and  sinking 
as  she  drifted  back  into  the  harbour.  Climbing 
on  board  the  Rattler  were  the  men  and  the 
Huahine  women  who  had  been  hidden  in  the 
Valetta9 s  cabin  and  who  had  swum  for  it  under 
the  protecting  fire.  The  Fuatino  men  who 
had  been  towing  in  the  whaleboat  had  cast  off 
the  line,  dashed  back  through  the  passage,  and 
were  rowing  wildly  for  the  south  shore. 

From  the  shore  of  the  peninsula  the  dis 
charges  of  four  rifles  announced  that  Brown 
and  his  men  had  worked  through  the  jungle 
to  the  beach  and  were  taking  a  hand.  The 
bullets  ceased  coming,  and  Grief  and  Mauriri 
joined  in  with  their  rifles.  But  they  could  do 
no  damage,  for  the  men  of  the  Rattler  were  firing 
from  the  shelter  of  the  deck-houses,  while  the 
wind  and  tide  carried  the  schooner  farther  in. 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATTNO  117 

There  was  no  sign  of  the  Valetta,  which   had 
sunk  in  the  deep  water  of  the  crater. 

Two  things  Raoul  Van  Asveld  did  that 
showed  his  keenness  and  coolness  and  that 
elicited  Grief's  admiration.  Under  the  Rattler's 
rifle  fire  Raoul  compelled  the  fleeing  Fuatino 
men  to  come  in  and  surrender.  And  at  the 
same  time,  dispatching  half  his  cutthroats  in  the 
Rattler9 s  boat,  he  threw  them  ashore  and  across 
the  peninsula,  preventing  Brown  from  getting 
away  to  the  main  part  of  the  island.  And  for 
the  rest  of  the  morning  the  intermittent  shoot 
ing  told  to  Grief  how  Brown  was  being  driven 
in  to  the  other  side  of  the  Big  Rock.  The 
situation  was  unchanged,  with  the  exception 
of  the  loss  of  the  Valetta. 

VI 

The  defects  of  the  position  on  the  Big  Rock 
were  vital.  There  was  neither  food  nor  water. 
For  several  nights,  accompanied  by  one  of  the 
Raiatea  men,  Mauriri  swam  to  the  head  of 
the  bay  for  supplies.  Then  came  the  night 
when  lights  flared  on  the  water  and  shots  were 


118  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

fired.  After  that  the  water-side  of  the  Big  Rock 
was  invested  as  well. 

"It's  a  funny  situation,"  Brown  remarked, 
who  was  getting  all  the  adventure  he  had  been 
led  to  believe  resided  in  the  South  Seas.  "  We've 
got  hold  and  can't  let  go,  and  Raoul  has  hold 
and  can't  let  go.  He  can't  get  away,  and  we're 
liable  to  starve  to  death  holding  him. " 

"If  the  rain  came,  the  rock-basins  would  fill, " 
said  Mauriri.  It  was  their  first  twenty-four 
hours  without  water.  "Big  Brother,  to-night 
you  and  I  will  get  water.  It  is  the  work  of 
strong  men." 

That  night,  with  cocoanut  calabashes,  each 
of  quart  capacity  and  tightly  stoppered,  he 
led  Grief  down  to  the  water  from  the  peninsula 
side  of  the  Big  Rock.  They  swam  out  not  more 
than  a  hundred  feet.  Beyond,  they  could  hear 
the  occasional  click  of  an  oar  or  the  knock  of  a 
paddle  against  a  canoe,  and  sometimes  they  saw 
the  flare  of  matches  as  the  men  in  the  guarding 
boats  lighted  cigarettes  or  pipes. 

"Wait  here,"  whispered  Mauriri,  "and  hold 
the  calabashes." 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  119 

Turning  over,  he  swam  down.  Grief,  face 
downward,  watched  his  phosphorescent  track 
glimmer,  and  dim,  and  vanish.  A  long  minute 
afterward  Mauriri  broke  surface  noiselessly  at 
Grief's  side. 

"Here!     Drink!" 

The  calabash  was  full,  and  Grief  drank  sweet 
fresh  water  which  had  come  up  from  the  depths 
of  the  salt. 

"It  flows  out  from  the  land,"  said  Mau 
riri. 

"On  the  bottom?" 

"No.  The  bottom  is  as  far  below  as  the 
mountains  are  above.  Fifty  feet  down  it  flows. 
Swim  down  until  you  feel  its  coolness. " 

Several  times  filling  and  emptying  his  lungs  in 
diver  fashion,  Grief  turned  over  and  went  down 
through  the  water.  Salt  it  was  to  his  lips,  and 
warm  to  his  flesh;  but  at  last,  deep  down,  it 
perceptibly  chilled  and  tasted  brackish.  Then, 
suddenly,  his  body  entered  the  cold,  subter 
ranean  stream.  He  removed  the  small  stopper 
from  the  calabash,  and,  as  the  sweet  water 
gurgled  into  it,  he  saw  the  phosphorescent 


120  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

glimmer  of  a  big  fish,  like  a  sea  ghost,  drift 
sluggishly  by. 

Thereafter,  holding  the  growing  weight  of  the 
calabashes,  he  remained  on  the  surface,  while 
Mauriri  took  them  down,  one  by  one,  and 
filled  them. 

"There  are  sharks,"  Grief  said,  as  they  swam 
back  to  shore. 

"Pooh!"  was  the  answer.  "They  are  fish 
sharks.  We  of  Fuatino  are  brothers  to  the  fish 
sharks. " 

"But  the  tiger  sharks?  I  have  seen  them 
here." 

"When  they  come,  Big  Brother,  we  will  have 
no  more  water  to  drink  —  unless  it  rains. " 

VII 

A  week  later  Mauriri  and  a  Raiatea  man 
swam  back  with  empty  calabashes.  The  tiger 
sharks  had  arrived  in  the  harbour.  The  next 
day  they  thirsted  on  the  Big  Rock. 

"  We  must  take  our  chance, "  said  Grief.  "  To 
night  I  shall  go  after  water  with  Mautau.  To 
morrow  night,  Brother,  you  will  go  with  Tehaa. " 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO 

Three  quarts  only  did  Grief  get,  when  the 
tiger  sharks  appeared  and  drove  them  in. 
There  were  six  of  them  on  the  Rock,  and  a  pint 
a  day,  in  the  sweltering  heat  of  the  mid-tropics, 
is  not  sufficient  moisture  for  a  man's  body. 
The  next  night  Mauriri  and  Tehaa  returned 
with  no  water.  And  the  day  following  Brown 
learned  the  full  connotation  of  thirst,  when  the 
lips  crack  to  bleeding,  the  mouth  is  coated  with 
granular  slime,  and  the  swollen  tongue  finds 
the  mouth  too  small  for  residence. 

Grief  swam  out  in  the  darkness  with  Mautau. 
Turn  by  turn,  they  went  down  through  the 
salt,  to  the  cool  sweet  stream,  drinking  their  fill 
while  the  calabashes  were  filling.  It  was  Mau- 
tau's  turn  to  descend  with  the  last  calabash, 
and  Grief,  peering  down  from  the  surface,  saw 
the  glimmer  of  sea-ghosts  and  all  the  phospho 
rescent  display  of  the  struggle.  He  swam  back 
alone,  but  without  relinquishing  the  precious 
burden  of  full  calabashes. 

Of  food  they  had  little.     Nothing  grew  on 

the  Rock,  and  its  sides,  covered  with  shellfish 

i 

at  sea  level  where  the  surf  thundered  in,  were 


122  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

too  precipitous  for  access.  Here  and  there, 
where  crevices  permitted,  a  few  rank  shellfish 
and  sea  urchins  were  gleaned.  Sometimes 
frigate  birds  and  other  sea  birds  were  snared. 
Once,  with  a  piece  of  frigate  bird,  they  suc 
ceeded  in  hooking  a  shark.  After  that, 
with  jealously  guarded  shark-meat  for  bait, 
they  managed  on  occasion  to  catch  more 
sharks. 

But  water  remained  their  direst  need.  Mau- 
riri  prayed  to  the  Goat  God  for  rain.  Taute 
prayed  to  the  Missionary  God,  and  his  two 
fellow  islanders,  backsliding,  invoked  the  deities 
of  their  old  heathen  days.  Grief  grinned  and 
considered.  But  Brown,  wild-eyed,  with  pro 
truding  blackened  tongue,  cursed.  Especially 
he  cursed  the  phonograph  that  in  the  cool 
twilights  ground  out  gospel  hymns  from  the 
deck  of  the  Rattler.  One  hymn  in  particular, 
"Beyond  the  Smiling  and  the  Weeping,"  drove 
him  to  madness.  It  seemed  a  favourite  on  board 
the  schooner,  for  it  was  played  most  of  all. 
Brown,  hungry  and  thirsty,  half  out  of  his 
head  from  weakness  and  suffering,  could  lie 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  123 

among  the  rocks  with  equanimity  and  listen 
to  the  tinkling  of  ukuleles  and  guitars,  and  the 
hulas  and  himines  of  the  Huahine  women. 
But  when  the  voices  of  the  Trinity  Choir  floated 
over  the  water  he  was  beside  himself.  One 
evening  the  cracked  tenor  took  up  the  song 
with  the  machine: 

"Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 
Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

I  shall  be  soon, 

I  shall  be  soon." 

Then  it  was  that  Brown  rose  up.  Again  and 
again,  blindly,  he  emptied  his  rifle  at  the 
schooner.  Laughter  floated  up  from  the  men 
and  women,  and  from  the  peninsula  came  a 
splattering  of  return  bullets;  but  the  cracked 
tenor  sang  on,  and  Brown  continued  to  fire, 
until  the  hymn  was  played  out. 

It  was  that  night  that  Grief  and  Mauriri 
came  back  with  but  one  calabash  of  water. 
A  patch  of  skin  six  inches  long  was  missing 
from  Grief's  shoulder  in  token  of  the  scrape 


124  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

of  the  sandpaper  hide  of  a  shark  whose  dash 
he  had  eluded. 

VIII 

In  the  early  morning  of  another  day,  before 
the  sun-blaze  had  gained  its  full  strength, 
came  an  offer  of  a  parley  from  Raoul  Van 
Asveld. 

Brown  brought  the  word  in  from  the  outpost 
among  the  rocks  a  hundred  yards  away.  Grief 
was  squatted  over  a  small  fire,  broiling  a  strip 
of  shark-flesh.  The  last  twenty-four  hours 
had  been  lucky.  Seaweed  and  sea  urchins 
had  been  gathered.  Tehaa  had  caught  a  shark, 
and  Mauriri  had  captured  a  fair-sized  octopus 
at  the  base  of  the  crevice  where  the  dynamite 
was  stored.  Then,  too,  in  the  darkness  they 
had  made  two  successful  swims  for  water  before 
the  tiger  sharks  had  nosed  them  out. 

"  Said  he'd  like  to  come  in  and  talk  with  you, " 
Brown  said.  "But  I  know  what  the  brute  is 
after.  Wants  to  see  how  near  starved  to  death 


we  are. ' 


:  Bring  him  in,"  Grief  said. 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  125 

"And  then  we  will  kill  him,"  the  Goat  Man 
cried  joyously. 

Grief  shook  his  head. 

"But  he  is  a  killer  of  men,  Big  Brother,  a 
beast  and  a  devil, "  the  Goat  Man  protested. 

"He  must  not  be  killed,  Brother.  It  is  our 
way  not  to  break  our  word. " 

"It  is  a  foolish  way." 

"Still  it  is  our  way,"  Grief  answered  gravely, 
turning  the  strip  of  shark-meat  over  on  the 
coals  and  noting  the  hungry  sniff  and  look  of 
Tehaa.  "Don't  do  that,  Tehaa,  when  the  Big 
Devil  comes.  Look  as  if  you  and  hunger  were 
strangers.  Here,  cook  those  sea  urchins,  you, 
and  you,  Big  Brother,  cook  the  squid.  We  will 
have  the  Big  Devil  to  feast  with  us.  Spare 
nothing.  Cook  all. " 

And,  still  broiling  meat,  Grief  arose  as  Raoul 
Van  Asveld,  followed  by  a  large  Irish  terrier, 
strode  into  camp.  Raoul  did  not  make  the  mis 
take  of  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  Hello ! "  he  said.     "  I've  heard  of  you. " 

"I  wish  I'd  never  heard  of  you,"  Grief  an 
swered. 


126  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Same  here,"  was  the  response.  "At  first, 
before  I  knew  who  it  was,  I  thought  I  had  to 
deal  with  an  ordinary  trading  captain.  That's 
why  you've  got  me  bottled  up. " 

"And  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  under 
rated  you,"  Grief  smiled.  "I  took  you  for  a 
thieving  beachcomber,  and  not  for  a  really 
intelligent  pirate  and  murderer.  Hence,  the 
loss  of  my  schooner.  Honours  are  even,  I  fancy, 
on  that  score." 

Raoul  flushed  angrily  under  his  sunburn,  but 
he  contained  himself.  His  eyes  roved  over  the 
supply  of  food  and  the  full  water-calabashes, 
though  he  concealed  the  incredulous  surprise 
he  felt.  His  was  a  tall,  slender,  well-knit  figure, 
and  Grief,  studying  him,  estimated  his  char 
acter  from  his  face.  The  eyes  were  keen  and 
strong,  but  a  bit  too  close  together  —  not 
pinched,  however,  but  just  a  trifle  near  to  bal 
ance  the  broad  forehead,  the  strong  chin  and 
jaw,  and  the  cheekbones  wide  apart.  Strength ! 
His  face  was  filled  with  it,  and  yet  Grief  sensed 
in  it  the  intangible  something  the  man  lacked. 

"We   are   both   strong   men,"   Raoul   said, 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  127 

with  a  bow.  "We  might  have  been  fighting 
for  empires  a  hundred  years  ago." 

It  was  Grief's  turn  to  bow. 

"As  it  is,  we  are  squalidly  scrapping  over  the 
enforcement  of  the  colonial  laws  of  those  em 
pires  whose  destinies  we  might  possibly  have 
determined  a  hundred  years  ago. " 

"It  all  comes  to  dust,"  Raoul  remarked  sen- 
tentiously,  sitting  down.  "Go  ahead  with  your 
meal.  Don't  let  me  interrupt." 

"Won't  you  join  us?"  was  Grief's  invita 
tion. 

The  other  looked  at  him  with  sharp  steadi 
ness,  then  accepted. 

"I'm  sticky  with  sweat,"  he  said.  "Can  I 
wash?" 

Grief  nodded  and  ordered  Mauriri  to  bring  a 
calabash.  Raoul  looked  into  the  Goat  Man's 
eyes,  but  saw  nothing  save  languid  uninterest 
as  the  precious  quart  of  water  was  wasted  on 
the  ground. 

"The  dog  is  thirsty,"  Raoul  said. 

Grief  nodded,  and  another  calabash  was  pre 
sented  to  the  animal. 


128  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Again  Raoul  searched  the  eyes  of  the  natives 
and  learned  nothing. 

"Sorry  we  have  no  coffee,"  Grief  apologized. 
"You'll  have  to  drink  plain  water.  A  calabash, 
Tehaa.  Try  some  of  this  shark.  There  is 
squid  to  follow,  and  sea  urchins  and  a  seaweed 
salad.  I'm  sorry  we  haven't  any  frigate  bird. 
The  boys  were  lazy  yesterday,  and  did  not  try 
to  catch  any. " 

With  an  appetite  that  would  not  have 
stopped  at  wire  nails  dipped  in  lard,  Grief  ate 
perfunctorily,  and  tossed  the  scraps  to  the 
dog. 

"I'm  afraid  I  haven't  got  down  to  the 
primitive  diet  yet,"  he  sighed,  as  he  sat 
back.  "The  tinned  goods  on  the  Rattler,  now 
I  could  make  a  hearty  meal  off  of  them,  but 

this  muck "  He  took  a  half-pound  strip 

of  broiled  shark  and  flung  it  to  the  dog.  "I 
suppose  I'll  come  to  it  if  you  don't  surrender 
pretty  soon. " 

Raoul  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"I  came  to  offer  terms,"  he  said  pointedly. 

Grief  shook  his  head. 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  129 

"There  aren't  any  terms.  I've  got  you 
where  the  hair  is  short,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
let  go." 

"You  think  you  can  hold  me  in  this  hole!" 
Raoul  cried. 

"You'll  never  leave  it  alive,  except  in  double 
irons."  Grief  surveyed  his  guest  with  an  air 
of  consideration.  "I've  handled  your  kind 
before.  We've  pretty  well  cleaned  it  out  of  the 
South  Seas.  But  you  are  a  —  how  shall  I  say? 
—  a  sort  of  an  anachronism.  You're  a  throw 
back,  and  we've  got  to  get  rid  of  you.  Per 
sonally,  I  would  advise  you  to  go  back  to  the 
schooner  and  blow  your  brains  out.  It  is  the 
only  way  to  escape  what  you've  got  coming  to 
you." 

The  parley,  so  far  as  Raoul  was  concerned, 
proved  fruitless,  and  he  went  back  into  his 
own  lines  convinced  that  the  men  on  the 
Big  Rock  could  hold  out  for  years,  though 
he  would  have  been  swiftly  unconvinced  could 
he  have  observed  Tehaa  and  the  Raiateans, 
the  moment  his  back  was  turned  and  he  was 
out  of  sight,  crawling  over  the  rocks  and 


130  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

sucking  and  crunching  the  scraps  his  dog  had 

left  uneaten. 

IX 

"We  hunger  now.  Brother,"  Grief  said,  "but 
it  is  better  than  to  hunger  for  many  days  to 
come.  The  Big  Devil,  after  feasting  and  drink 
ing  good  water  with  us  in  plenty,  will  not  stay 
long  in  Fuatino.  Even  to-morrow  may  he  try 
to  leave.  To-night  you  and  I  sleep  over  the  top 
of  the  Rock,  and  Tehaa,  who  shoots  well,  will 
sleep  with  us  if  he  can  dare  the  Rock. " 

Tehaa,  alone  among  the  Raiateans,  was  crags 
man  enough  to  venture  the  perilous  way,  and 
dawn  found  him  in  a  rock-barricaded  nook,  a 
hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  Grief  and  Mauriri. 

The  first  warning  was  the  firing  of  rifles  from 
the  peninsula,  where  Brown  and  his  two  Raia 
teans  signalled  the  retreat  and  followed  the 
besiegers  through  the  jungle  to  the  beach. 
From  the  eyrie  on  the  face  of  the  rock  Grief 
could  see  nothing  for  another  hour,  when  the 
Rattler  appeared,  making  for  the  passage.  As 
before,  the  captive  Fuatino  men  towed  in  the 
whaleboat.  Mauriri,  under  direction  of  Grief, 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  131 

called  down  instructions  to  them  as  they  passed 
slowly  beneath.  By  Grief's  side  lay  several 
bundles  of  dynamite  sticks,  well-lashed  together 
and  with  extremely  short  fuses. 

The  deck  of  the  Rattler  was  populous.  For'- 
ard,  rifle  in  hand,  among  the  Raiatean  sailors, 
stood  a  desperado  whom  Mauriri  announced 
was  Raoul's  brother.  Aft,  by  the  helmsman, 
stood  another.  Attached  to  him,  tied  waist  to 
waist,  with  slack,  was  Mataara,  the  old  Queen. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  helmsman,  his  arm  in  a 
sling,  was  Captain  Glass.  Amidships,  as  before, 
was  Raoul,  and  with  him,  lashed  waist  to  waist, 
was  Naumoo. 

"  Good  morning,  Mister  David  Grief, "  Raoul 
called  up. 

"And  yet  I  warned  you  that  only  in  double 
irons  would  you  leave  the  island,"  Grief  mur 
mured  down  with  a  sad  inflection. 

:'You  can't  kill  all  your  people  I  have  on 
board,"  was  the  answer. 

The  schooner,  moving  slowly,  jerk  by  jerk, 
as  the  men  pulled  in  the  whaleboat,  was  almost 
directly  beneath.  The  rowers,  without  ceasing, 


132  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

slacked  on  their  oars,  and  were  immediately 
threatened  with  the  rifle  of  the  man  who  stood 
for'ard. 

"Throw,  Big  Brother!"  Naumoo  called  up 
in  the  Fuatino  tongue.  "I  am  filled  with  sor 
row  and  am  willed  to  die.  His  knife  is  ready 
with  which  to  cut  the  rope,  but  I  shall  hold  him 
tight.  Be  not  afraid,  Big  Brother.  Throw, 
and  throw  straight,  and  good-bye. " 

Grief  hesitated,  then  lowered  the  fire-stick 
which  he  had  been  blowing  bright. 

"Throw!"  the  Goat  Man  urged. 

Still  Grief  hesitated. 

"If  they  get  to  sea,  Big  Brother,  Naumoo  dies 
just  the  same.  And  there  are  all  the  others. 
What  is  her  life  against  the  many?" 

"If  you  drop  any  dynamite,  or  fire  a  single 
shot,  we'll  kill  all  on  board,"  Raoul  cried  up 
to  them.  "I've  got  you,  David  Grief.  You 
can't  kill  these  people,  and  I  can.  Shut  up, 
you!" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  Naumoo,  who 
was  calling  up  in  her  native  tongue  and  whom 
Raoul  seized  by  the  neck  with  one  hand  to  choke 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  133 

to  silence.  In  turn,  she  locked  both  arms  about 
him  and  looked  up  beseechingly  to  Grief. 

"Throw  it,  Mr.  Grief,  and  be  damned  to 
them,"  Captain  Glass  rumbled  in  his  deep 
voice.  "They're  bloody  murderers,  and  the 
cabin's  full  of  them. " 

The  desperado  who  was  fastened  to  the  old 
Queen  swung  half  about  to  menace  Captain 
Glass  with  his  rifle,  when  Tehaa,  from  his 
position  farther  along  the  Rock,  pulled  trigger 
on  him.  The  rifle  dropped  from  the  man's 
hand,  and  on  his  face  was  an  expression  of 
intense  surprise  as  his  legs  crumpled  under  him 
and  he  sank  down  on  deck,  dragging  the  Queen 
with  him. 

"  Port !    Hard  a  port ! "  Grief  cried. 

Captain  Glass  and  the  Kanaka  whirled  the 
wheel  over,  and  the  bow  of  the  Rattler  headed 
in  for  the  Rock.  Amidships  Raoul  still  strug 
gled  with  Naumoo.  His  brother  ran  from 
for'ard  to  nis  aid,  being  missed  by  the  fusillade 
of  quick  shots  from  Tehaa  and  the  Goat  Man. 
As  Raoul's  brother  placed  the  muzzle  of  his 
rifle  to  Naumoo's  side  Grief  touched  the  fire- 


134  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

stick  to  the  match-head  in  the  split  end  of 
the  fuse.  Even  as  ,with  both  hands  he  tossed 
the  big  bundle  of  dynamite,  the  rifle  went 
off,  and  Naumoo's  fall  to  the  deck  was  simul 
taneous  with  the  fall  of  the  dynamite.  This 
time  the  fuse  was  short  enough.  The  ex 
plosion  occurred  at  the  instant  the  deck  was 
reached,"  and  that  portion  [of  the  Rattler, 
along  with  Raoul,  his  brother,  and  Naumoo, 
forever  disappeared. 

The  schooner's  side  was  shattered,  and  she 
began  immediately  to  settle.  For'ard,  every 
Raiatean  sailor  dived  overboard.  Captain 
Glass  met  the  first  man  springing  up  the  com- 
panionway  from  the  cabin,  with  a  kick  full  in 
the  face,  but  was  overborne  and  trampled  on 
by  the  rush.  Following  the  desperadoes  came 
the  Huahine  women,  and  as  they  went  over 
board,  the  Rattler  sank  on  an  even  keel  close 
to  the  base  of  the  Rock.  Her  cross-trees  still 
stuck  out  when  she  reached  bottom. 

Looking  down,  Grief  could  see  all  that  oc 
curred  beneath  the  surface.  He  saw  Mataara, 
a  fathom  deep,  unfasten  herself  from  the  dead 


THE  DEVILS  OF  FUATINO  135 

pirate  and  swim  upward.  As  her  head  emerged 
she  saw  Captain  Glass,  who  could  not  swim, 
sinking  several  yards  away.  The  Queen,  old 
woman  that  she  was,  but  an  islander,  turned 
over,  swam  down  to  him,  and  held  him  up  as 
she  struck  out  for  the  unsubmerged  cross- 
trees. 

Five  heads,  blond  and  brown,  were  mingled 
with  the  dark  heads  of  Polynesia  that  dotted 
the  surface.  Grief,  rifle  in  hand,  watched  for 
a  chance  to  shoot.  The  Goat  Man,  after  a 
minute,  was  'successful,  and  they  saw  the 
body  of  one  man  sink  sluggishly.  But  to  the 
Raiatean  sailors,  big  and  brawny,  half  fish, 
was  the  vengeance  given.  Swimming  swiftly, 
they  singled  out  the  blond  heads  and  the 
brown.  Those  from  above  watched  the  four 
surviving  desperadoes,  clutched  and  locked, 
dragged  far  down  beneath  and  drowned  like 
curs. 

In  ten  minutes  everything  was  over.  The 
Huahine  women,  laughing  and  giggling,  were 
holding  on  to  the  sides  of  the  whaleboat  which 
had  done  the  towing.  The  Raiatean  sailors, 


130  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

waiting  for  orders,  were  about  the  cross-tree 
to  which  Captain  Glass  and  Mataara  clung. 

"The  poor  old  Rattler,"  Captain  Glass  la 
mented. 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  Grief  answered.  "In 
a  week  we'll  have  her  raised,  new  timbers  amid 
ships,  and  we'll  be  on  our  way."  And  to  the 
Queen,  "How  is  it  with  you,  Sister?" 

"Naumoo  is  gone,  and  Motauri,  Brother,  but 
Fuatino  is  ours  again.  The  day  is  young. 
Word  shall  be  sent  to  all  my  people  in  the  high 
places  with  the  goats.  And  to-night,  once  again, 
and  as  never  before,  we  shall  feast  and  rejoice 
in  the  Big  House." 

"She's  been  needing  new  timbers  abaft  the 
beam  there  for  years,"  quoth  Captain  Glass. 
"But  the  chronometers  will  be  out  of  commission 
for  the  rest  of  the  cruise." 


Chapter  Four 
THE  JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON 


"I'm  almost  afraid  to  take  you  in  to  New 
Gibbon,"  David  Grief  said.  "It  wasn't  until 
you  and  the  British  gave  me  a  free  hand  and  let 
the  place  alone  that  any  results  were  accom 
plished." 

Wallenstein,  the  German  Resident  Commis 
sioner  from  Bougainville,  poured  himself  a  long 
Scotch  and  soda  and  smiled. 

"We  take  off  our  hats  to  you,  Mr.  Grief,"  he 
said  in  perfectly  good  English.  "  What  you  have 
done  on  the  devil  island  is  a  miracle.  And  we 
shall  continue  not  to  interfere.  It  is  a  devil 
island,  and  old  Koho  is  the  big  chief  devil  of 
them  all.  We  never  could  bring  him  to  terms. 
He  is  a  liar,  and  he  is  no  fool.  He  is  a  black 
Napoleon,  a  head-hunting,  man-eating  Talley- 

137 


138  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

rand.  I  remember  six  years  ago,  when  I  landed 
there  in  the  British  cruiser.  The  niggers  cleared 
out  for  the  bush,  of  course,  but  we  found  several 
who  couldn't  get  away.  One  was  his  latest  wife. 
She  had  been  hung  up  by  one  arm  in  the  sun  for 
two  days  and  nights.  We  cut  her  down,  but 
she  died  just  the  same.  And  staked  out  in  the 
fresh  running  water,  up  to  their  necks,  were 
three  more  women.  All  their  bones  were  broken 
and  their  joints  crushed.  The  process  is  sup 
posed  to  make  them  tender  for  the  eating.  They 
were  still  alive.  Their  vitality  was  remarkable. 
One  woman,  the  oldest,  lingered  nearly  ten  days. 
Well,  that  was  a  sample  of  Koho's  diet.  No 
wonder  he's  a  wild  beast.  How  you  ever  paci 
fied  him  is  our  everlasting  puzzlement." 

"I  wouldn't  call  him  exactly  pacified,"  Grief 
answered.  "  Though  he  comes  in  once  in  a  while 
and  eats  out  of  the  hand." 

"That's  more  than  we  accomplished  with  our 
cruisers.  Neither  the  German  nor  the  English 
ever  laid  eyes  on  him.  You  were  the  first." 

"No;  McTavish  was  the  first,"  Grief  dis 
claimed. 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  139 

"Ah,  yes,  I  remember  him  —  the  little, 
dried-up  Scotchman."  Wallenstein  sipped  his 
whiskey.  "He's  called  the  Trouble-mender, 
isn't  he?" 

Grief  nodded. 

"And  they  say  the  screw  you  pay  him  is 
bigger  than  mine  or  the  British  Resident's?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  is,"  Grief  admitted.  "You  see, 
and  no  offence,  he's  really  worth  it.  He  spends 
his  time  wherever  the  trouble  is.  He  is  a 
wizard.  He's  the  one  who  got  me  my  lodgment 
on  New  Gibbon.  He's  down  on  Malaita  now, 
starting  a  plantation  for  me." 

"The  first?" 

"There's  not  even  a  trading  station  on  all 
Malaita.  The  recruiters  still  use  covering  boats 
and  carry  the  old  barbed  wire  above  their  rails. 
There's  the  plantation  now.  We'll  be  in  in  half 
an  hour."  He  handed  the  binoculars  to  his 
guest.  "Those  are  the  boat-sheds  to  the  left  of 
the  bungalow.  Beyond  are  the  barracks.  And 
to  the  right  are  the  copra-sheds.  We  dry  quite 
a  bit  already.  Old  Koho's  getting  civilized 
enough  to  make  his  people  bring  in  the  nuts. 


140  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

There's  the  mouth  of  the  stream  where  you  found 
the  three  women  softening." 

The  Wonder,  wing-and-wing,  was  headed 
directly  in  for  the  anchorage.  She  rose  and  fell 
lazily  over  a  glassy  swell  flawed  here  and  there 
by  catspaws  from  astern.  It  was  the  tail-end  of 
the  monsoon  season,  and  the  air  was  heavy  and 
sticky  with  tropic  moisture,  the  sky  a  florid, 
leaden  muss  of  formless  clouds.  The  rugged 
land  was  swathed  with  cloud-banks  and  squall 
wreaths,  through  which  headlands  and  interior 
peaks  thrust  darkly.  On  one  promontory  a 
slant  of  sunshine  blazed  torridly,  on  another, 
scarcely  a  mile  away,  a  squall  was  bursting  in 
furious  downpour  of  driving  rain. 

This  was  the  dank,  fat,  savage  island  of  New 
Gibbon,  lying  fifty  miles  to  leeward  of  Choiseul. 
Geographically,  it  belonged  to  the  Solomon 
Group.  Politically,  the  dividing  line  of  German 
and  British  influence  cut  it  in  half,  hence  the 
joint  control  by  the  two  Resident  Commissioners. 
In  the  case  of  New  Gibbon,  this  control  existed 
only  on  paper  in  the  colonial  offices  of  the  two 
countries.  There  was  no  real  control  at  all, 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  141 

.and  never  had  been.  The  beche  de  mer  fisher 
men  of  the  old  days  had  passed  it  by.  The 
sandalwood  traders,  after  stern  experiences,  had 
given  it  up.  The  blackbirders  had  never  suc 
ceeded  in  recruiting  one  labourer  on  the  island, 
and,  after  the  schooner  Dorset  had  been  cut  off 
with  all  hands,  they  left  the  place  severely  alone. 
Later,  a  German  company  had  attempted  a 
cocoanut  plantation,  which  was  abandoned  after 
several  managers  and  a  number  of  contract  la 
bourers  had  lost  their  heads.  German  cruisers 
and  British  cruisers  had  failed  to  get  the  savage 
blacks  to  listen  to  reason.  Four  times  the  mis 
sionary  societies  had  essayed  the  peaceful  con 
quest  of  the  island,  and  four  times,  between  sick 
ness  and  massacre,  they  had  been  driven  away. 
More  cruisers,  more  pacifications,  had  followed, 
and  followed  fruitlessly.  The  cannibals  had  al 
ways  retreated  into  the  bush  and  laughed  at  the 
screaming  shells.  When  the  warships  left  it  was 
an  easy  matter  to  rebuild  the  burned  grass  houses 
and  set  up  the  ovens  in  the  old-fashioned  way. 

New  Gibbon  was  a  large  island,  fully  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  long  and  half  as  broad. 


142  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Its  windward  coast  was  iron-bound,  without 
anchorages  or  inlets,  and  it  was  inhabited  by 
scores  of  warring  tribes  —  at  least  it  had  been, 
until  Koho  had  arisen,  like  a  Kamehameha,  and, 
by  force  of  arms  and  considerable  statecraft, 
firmly  welded  the  greater  portion  of  the  tribes 
into  a  confederation.  His  policy  of  permitting 
no  intercourse  with  white  men  had  been  emi 
nently  right,  so  far  as  survival  of  his  own  people 
was  concerned;  and  after  the"  visit  of  the  last 
cruiser  he  had  had  his  own  way  until  David  Grief 
and  McTavish  the  Trouble-mender  landed  on 
the  deserted  beach  where  once  had  stood  the 
German  bungalow  and  barracks  and  the  various 
English  mission-houses. 

Followed  wars,  false  peaces,  and  more  wars. 
The  weazened  little  Scotchman  could  make 
trouble  as  well  as  mend  it,  and,  not  content  with 
holding  the  beach,  he  imported  bushmen  from 
Malaita  and  invaded  the  wild-pig  runs  of  the 
interior  jungle.  He  burned  villages  until  Koho 
wearied  of  rebuilding  them,  and  when  he  cap 
tured  Koho's  eldest  son  he  compelled  a  con 
ference  with  the  old  chief.  It  was  then  that 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  143 

McTavish  laid  down  the  rate  of  head-exchange. 
For  each  head  of  his  own  people  he  promised  to 
take  ten  of  Koho's.  After  Koho  had  learned 
that  the  Scotchman  was  a  man  of  his  word,  the 
first  true  peace  was  made.  In  the  meantime 
McTavish  had  built  the  bungalow  and  barracks, 
cleared  the  jungle-land  along  the  beach,  and  laid 
out  the  plantation.  After  that  he  had  gone  on 
his  way  to  mend  trouble  on  the  atoll  of  Tasman, 
where  a  plague  of  black  measles  had  broken  out 
and  been  ascribed  to  Grief's  plantation  by  the 
devil-devil  doctors.  Once,  a  year  later,  he  had 
been  called  back  again  to  straighten  up  New 
Gibbon;  and  Koho,  after  paying  a  forced  fine  of 
two  hundred  thousand  cocoanuts,  decided  it  was 
cheaper  to  keep  the  peace  and  sell  the  nuts. 
Also,  the  fires  of  his  youth  had  burned  down. 
He  was  getting  old  and  limped  of  one  leg  where 
a  Lee-Enfield  bullet  had  perforated  the  calf. 

II 

"I  knew  a  chap  in  Hawaii,"  Grief  said, 
"superintendent  of  a  sugar  plantation,  who 
used  a  hammer  and  a  ten-penny  nail." 


144  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

They  were  sitting  on  the  broad  bungalow 
veranda,  and  watching  Worth,  the  manager  of 
New  Gibbon,  doctoring  the  sick  squad.  They 
were  New  Georgia  boys,  a  dozen  of  them,  and 
the  one  with  the  aching  tooth  had  been  put  back 
to  the  last.  Worth  had  just  failed  in  his  first 
attempt.  He  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead 
with  one  hand  and  waved  the  forceps  with  the 
other. 

"And  broke  more  than  one  jaw,"  he  asserted 
grimly. 

Grief  shook  his  head.  Wallenstein  smiled 
and  elevated  his  brows. 

"He  said  not,  at  any  rate,"  Grief  qualified. 
"He  assured  me,  furthermore,  that  he  always 
succeeded  on  the  first  trial." 

"I  saw  it  done  when  I  was  second  mate  on  a 
lime-juicer,"  Captain  Ward  spoke  up.  "The 
old  man  used  a  caulking  mallet  and  a  steel 
marlin-spike.  He  took  the  tooth  out  with  the 
first  stroke,  too,  clean  as  a  whistle." 

"Me  for  the  forceps,"  Worth  muttered  grimly, 
inserting  his  own  pair  in  the  mouth  of  the  black. 
As  he  pulled,  the  man  groaned  and  rose  in  the 


JOKERS  OP  NEW  GIBBON  145 

air.  "Lend  a  hand,  somebody,  and  hold  him 
down,"  the  manager  appealed. 

Grief  and  Wallenstein,  on  either  side,  gripped 
the  black  and  held  him.  And  he,  in  turn, 
struggled  against  them  and  clenched  his  teeth 
on  the  forceps.  The  group  swayed  back  and 
forth.  Such  exertion,  in  the  stagnant  heat, 
brought  the  sweat  out  on  all  of  them.  The 
black  sweated,  too,  but  his  was  the  sweat  of 
excruciating  pain.  The  chair  on  which  he  sat 
was  overturned.  Captain  Ward  paused  in  the 
act  of  pouring  himself  a  drink,  and  called  en 
couragement.  Worth  pleaded  with  his  assist 
ants  to  hang  on,  and  hung  on  himself,  twisting 
the  tooth  till  it  crackled  and  then  attempting 
a  straightaway  pull. 

Nor  did  any  of  them  notice  the  little  black 
man  who  limped  up  the  steps  and  stood  looking 
on.  Koho  was  a  conservative.  His  fathers 
before  him  had  worn  no  clothes,  and  neither  did 
he,  not  even  a  gee-string.  The  many  empty 
perforations  in  nose  and  lips  and  ears  told  of 
decorative  passions  long  since  dead.  The  holes 
on  both  ear-lobes  had  been  torn  out,  but  their 


146  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

size  was  attested  by  the  strips  of  withered  flesh 
that  hung  down  and  swept  his  shoulders.  He 
cared  now  only  for  utility,  and  in  one  of  the  half 
dozen  minor  holes  in  his  right  ear  he  carried  a 
short  clay  pipe.  Around  his  waist  was  buckled 
a  cheap  trade-belt,  and  between  the  imitation 
leather  and  the  naked  skin  was  thrust  the  naked 
blade  of  a  long  knife.  Suspended  from  the  belt 
was  his  bamboo  betel-nut  and  lime  box.  In 
his  hand  was  a  short-barrelled,  large-bore  Snider 
rifle.  He  was  indescribably  filthy,  and  here  and 
there  marred  by  scars,  the  worst  being  the 
one  left  by  the  Lee-Enfield  bullet,  which  had 
withered  the  calf  to  half  the  size  of  its  mate. 
His  shrunken  mouth  showed  that  few  teeth  were 
left  to  serve  him.  Face  and  body  were  shrunken 
and  withered,  but  his  black,  bead-like  eyes, 
small  and  close  together,  were  very  bright, 
withal  they  were  restless  and  querulous,  and 
more  like  a  monkey's  than  a  man's. 

He  looked  on,  grinning  like  a  shrewd  little 
ape.  His  joy  in  the  torment  of  the  patient  was 
natural,  for  the  world  he  lived  in  was  a  world  of 
pain.  He  had  endured  his  share  of  it,  and  in- 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  147 

flicted  far  more  than  his  share  on  others.  When 
the  tooth  parted  from  its  locked  hold  in  the 
jaw  and  the  forceps  raked  across  the  other  teeth 
and  out  of  the  mouth  with  a  nerve-rasping 
sound,  old  Koho's  eyes  fairly  sparkled,  and  he 
looked  with  glee  at  the  poor  black,  collapsed  on 
the  veranda  floor  and  groaning  terribly  as  he 
held  his  head  in  both  his  hands. 

"I  think  he's  going  to  faint,"  Grief  said, 
bending  over  the  victim.  "Captain  Ward,  give 
him  a  drink,  please.  You'd  better  take  one 
yourself,  Worth;  you're  shaking  like  a  leaf." 

"And  I  think  I'll  take  one,"  said  Wallenstein, 
wiping  the  sweat  from  his  face.  His  eye  caught 
the  shadow  of  Koho  on  the  floor  and  followed  it 
up  to  the  old  chief  himself.  "  Hello !  who's  this  ?  " 

"Hello,  Koho!"  Grief  said  genially,  though 
he  knew  better  than  to  offer  to  shake  hands. 

It  was  one  of  Koho's  tambos,  given  him  by  the 
devil-devil  doctors  when  he  was  born,  that  never 
was  his  flesh  to  come  in  contact  with  the  flesh  of 
a  white  man.  Worth  and  Captain  Ward,  of 
the  Wonder,  greeted  Koho,  but  Worth  frowned 
at  sight  of  the  Snider,  for  it  was  one  of  his  tambos 


148  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

that  no  visiting  bushman  should  carry  a  weapon 
on  the  plantation.  Rifles  had  a  nasty  way  of 
going  off  at  the  hip  under  such  circumstances. 
The  manager  clapped  his  hands,  and  a  black 
house-boy,  recruited  from  San  Cristobal,  came 
running.  At  a  sign  from  Worth,  he  took  the 
rifle  from  the  visitor's  hand  and  carried  it  inside 
the  bungalow. 

"Koho,"  Grief  said,  introducing  the  Ger 
man  Resident,  "this  big  fella  marster  belong 
Bougainville  —  my  word,  big  fella  marster  too 
much." 

Koho,  remembering  the  visits  of  the  various 
German  cruisers,  smiled  with  a  light  of  un 
pleasant  reminiscence  in  his  eyes. 

"Don't  shake  hands  with  him,  Wallenstein," 
Grief  warned.  "Tambo,  you  know."  Then  to 
Koho,  "My  word,  you  get  'm  too  much  fat  stop 
along  you.  Bime  by  you  marry  along  new  fella 
Mary,  eh?" 

"Too  old  fella  me,"  Koho  answered,  with  a 
weary  shake  of  the  head.  "  Me  no  like  'm  Mary. 
Me  no  like  'm  kai-kai  (food).  Close  up  me  die 
along  altogether."  He  stole  a  significant  glance 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  149 

at  Worth,  whose  head  was  tilted  back  to  a  long 
glass.  "Me  like  'm  rum." 

Grief  shook  his  head. 

"Tambo  along  black  fella." 

"He  black  fella  no  tambo,"  Koho  retorted, 
nodding  toward  the  groaning  labourer. 

"He  fella  sick,"  Grief  explained. 

"Me  fella  sick." 

"You  fella  big  liar,"  Grief  laughed.  "Rum 
tambo,  all  the  time  tambo.  Now,  Koho,  we 
have  big  fella  talk  along  this  big  fella  mar- 
ster." 

And  he  and  Wallenstein  and  the  old  chief  sat 
down  on  the  veranda  to  confer  about  affairs  of 
state.  Koho  was  complimented  on  the  peace  he 
had  kept,  and  he,  with  many  protestations  of 
his  aged  decrepitude,  swore  peace  again  and 
everlasting.  Then  was  discussed  the  matter  of 
starting  a  German  plantation  twenty  miles  down 
the  coast.  The  land,  of  course,  was  to  be  bought 
from  Koho,  and  the  price  was  arranged  in  terms 
of  tobacco,  knives,  beads,  pipes,  hatchets,  por 
poise  teeth  and  shell-money  —  in  terms  of  every 
thing  except  rum.  While  the  talk  went  on, 


150  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Koho,  glancing  through  the  window,  could  see 
Worth  mixing  medicines  and  placing  bottles 
back  in  the  medicine  cupboard.  Also,  he  saw 
the  manager  complete  his  labours  by  taking  a 
drink  of  Scotch.  Koho  noted  the  bottle  care 
fully.  And,  though  he  hung  about  for  an  hour 
after  the  conference  was  over,  there  was  never  a 
moment  when  some  one  or  another  was  not  in 
the  room.  When  Grief  and  Worth  sat  down  to 
a  business  talk,  Koho  gave  it  up. 

"Me  go  along  schooner,"  he  announced,  then 
turned  and  limped  out. 

"How  are  the  mighty  fallen,"  Grief  laughed. 
"To  think  that  used  to  be  Koho,  the  fie  -t 
red-handed  murderer  in  the  Solomons,  who 
defied  all  his  life  two  of  the  greatest  world 
powers.  And  now  he's  going  aboard  to  try  and 
cadge  Denby  for  a  drink." 

Ill 

For  the  last  time  in  his  life  the  supercargo 
of  the  Wonder  perpetrated  a  practical  joke  on 
a  native.  He  was  in  the  main  cabin,  check 
ing  off  the  list  of  goods  being  landed  in  the 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  151 

whaleboats,  when  Koho  limped  down  the  com- 
panionway  and  took  a  seat  opposite  him  at  the 
table. 

"Close  up  me  die  along  altogether,"  was  the 
burden  of  the  old  chief's  plaint.  All  the  de 
lights  of  the  flesh  had  forsaken  him.  "Me  no 
like  'm  Mary.  Me  no  like  'm  Jcai-kai.  Me  too 
much  sick  fella.  Me  close  up  finish."  A  long, 
sad  pause,  in  which  his  face  expressed  unutter 
able  concern  for  his  stomach,  which  he  patted 
gingerly  and  with  an  assumption  of  pain.  "Belly 
belong  me  too  much  sick."  Another  pause, 
which  was  an  invitation  to  Denby  to  make  sug- 
?  3ns.  Then  followed  a  long,  weary,  final 
sign,  and  a  "Me  like  'm  rum." 

Denby  laughed  heartlessly.  He  had  been 
cadged  for  drinks  before  by  the  old  cannibal, 
and  the  sternest  tambo  Grief  and  McTavish  had 
laid  down  was  the  one  forbidding  alcohol  to  the 
natives  of  New  Gibbon. 

The  trouble  was  that  Koho  had  acquired  the 
taste.  In  his  younger  days  he  had  learned  the 
delights  of  drunkenness  when  he  cut  off  the 
schooner  Dorset,  but  unfortunately  he  had 


152  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

learned  it  along  with  all  his  tribesmen,  and  the 
supply  had  not  held  out  long.  Later,  when  he 
led  his  naked  warriors  down  to  the  destruction 
of  the  German  plantation,  he  was  wiser,  and  he 
appropriated  all  the  liquors  for  his  sole  use.  The 
result  had  been  a  gorgeous  mixed  drunk,  on  a 
dozen  different  sorts  of  drink,  ranging  from  beer 
doctored  with  quinine  to  absinthe  and  apricot 
brandy.  The  drunk  had  lasted  for  months,  and 
it  had  left  him  with  a  thirst  that  would  remain 
with  him  until  he  died.  Predisposed  toward 
alcohol,  after  the  way  of  savages,  all  the  chemis 
try  of  his  flesh  clamoured  for  it.  This  craving 
was  to  him  expressed  in  terms  of  tingling  and 
sensation,  of  maggots  crawling  warmly  and 
deliciously  in  his  brain,  of  good  feeling,  and  well 
being,  and  high  exultation.  And  in  his  barren 
old  age,  when  women  and  feasting  were  a  weari 
ness,  and  when  old  hates  had  smouldered  down, 
he  desired  more  and  more  the  revivifying  fire 
that  came  liquid  out  of  bottles  —  out  of  all  sorts 
of  bottles  —  for  he  remembered  them  well.  He 
would  sit  in  the  sun  for  hours,  occasionally  drool 
ing,  in  mournful  contemplation  of  the  great  orgy 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  153 

which  had  been  his  when  the  German  plantation 
was  cleaned  out. 

Denby  was  sympathetic.  He  sought  out  the 
old  chief's  symptoms  and  offered  him  dyspeptic 
tablets  from  the  medicine  chest,  pills,  and  a 
varied  assortment  of  harmless  tabloids  and  cap 
sules.  But  Koho  steadfastly  declined.  Once, 
when  he  cut  the  Dorset  off,  he  had  bitten  through 
a  capsule  of  quinine;  in  addition,  two  of  his  war 
riors  had  partaken  of  a  white  powder  and  laid 
down  and  died  very  violently  in  a  very  short 
time.  No;  he  did  not  believe  in  drugs.  But 
the  liquids  from  bottles,  the  cool-flaming  youth- 
givers  and  warm-glowing  dream-makers.  No 
wonder  the  white  men  valued  them  so  highly 
and  refased  to  dispense  them. 

"Rum  he  good  fella,"  he  repeated  over  and 
over,  plaintively  and  with  the  weary  patience 
of  age. 

And  then  Denby  made  his  mistake  and  played 
his  joke.  Stepping  around  behind  Koho,  he 
unlocked  the  medicine  closet  and  took  out  a 
four-ounce  bottle  labelled  essence  of  mustard. 
As  he  made  believe  to  draw  the  cork  and  drink 


154  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

of  the  contents,  in  the  mirror  on  the  for'ard 
bulkhead  he  glimpsed  Koho,  twisted  half  around, 
intently  watching  him.  Denby  smacked  his 
lips  and  cleared  his  throat  appreciatively  as  he 
replaced  the  bottle.  Neglecting  to  relock  the 
medicine  closet,  he  returned  to  his  chair,  and, 
after  a  decent  interval,  went  on  deck.  He  stood 
beside  the  companionway  and  listened.  After 
several  moments  the  silence  below  was  broken  by 
a  fearful,  wheezing,  propulsive,  strangling  cough. 
He  smiled  to  himself  and  returned  leisurely 
down  the  companionway.  The  bottle  was  back 
on  the  shelf  where  it  belonged,  and  the  old  man 
sat  in  the  same  position.  Denby  marvelled  at 
his  iron  control.  Mouth  and  lips  and  tongue, 
and  all  sensitive  membranes,  were  a  blaze  of 
fire.  He  gasped  and  nearly  coughed  several 
times,  while  involuntary  tears  brimmed  in  his 
eyes  and  ran  down  his  cheeks.  An  ordinary 
man  would  have  coughed  and  strangled  for  half 
an  hour.  But  old  Koho's  face  was  grimly  com 
posed.  It  dawned  on  him  that  a  trick  had  been 
played,  and  into  his  eyes  came  an  expression  of 
hatred  and  malignancy  so  primitive,  so  abysmal, 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  155 

that  it  sent  the  chills  up  and  down  Denby's 
spine.     Koho  arose  proudly. 

"Me  go  along,"  he  said.  :<You  sing  out  one 
fella  boat  stop  along  me." 

IV 

Having  seen  Grief  and  Worth  start  for  a  ride 
over  the  plantation,  Wallenstein  sat  down  in  the 
big  living-room  and  with  gun-oil  and  old  rags 
proceeded  to  take  apart  and  clean  his  automatic 
pistol.  On  the  table  beside  him  stood  the  in 
evitable  bottle  of  Scotch  and  numerous  soda 
bottles.  Another  bottle,  part  full,  chanced  to 
stand  there.  It  was  also  labelled  Scotch,  but 
its  content  was  liniment  which  Worth  had 
mixed  for  the  horses  and  neglected  to  put 
away. 

As  Wallenstein  worked,  he  glanced  through 
the  window  and  saw  Koho  coming  up  the 
compound  path.  He  was  limping  very  rapidly, 
but  when  he  came  along  the  veranda  and 
entered  the  room  his  gait  was  slow  and  digni 
fied.  He  sat  down  and  watched  the  gun-clean 
ing.  Though  mouth  and  lips  and  tongue  were 


156  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

afire,  he  gave  no  sign.     At  the  end  of  five  min 
utes  he  spoke. 

"Rum  he  good  fella.  Me  like  'm  rum." 
Wallenstein  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  and 
then  it  was  that  his  perverse  imp  suggested  what 
was  to  be  his  last  joke  on  a  native.  The  similar 
ity  of  the  two  bottles  was  the  real  suggestion. 
He  laid  his  pistol  parts  on  the  table  and  mixed 
himself  a  long  drink.  Standing  as  he  did  be 
tween  Koho  and  the  table,  he  interchanged  the 
two  bottles,  drained  his  glass,  made  as  if  to 
search  for  something,  and  left  the  room.  From 
outside  he  heard  the  surprised  splutter  and 
cough;  but  when  he  returned  the  old  chief  sat 
as  before.  The  liniment  in  the  bottle,  however, 
was  lower,  and  it  still  oscillated. 

Koho  stood  up,  clapped  his  hands,  and,  when 
the  house-boy  answered,  signed  that  he  desired 
his  rifle.  The  boy  fetched  the  weapon,  and 
according  to  custom  preceded  the  visitor  down 
the  pathway.  Not  until  outside  the  gate  did 
the  boy  turn  the  rifle  over  to  its  owner.  Wallen 
stein,  chuckling  to  himself,  watched  the  old  chief 
limp  along  the  beach  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  157 

A  few  minutes  later,  as  he  put  his  pistol  to 
gether,  Wallenstein  heard  the  distant  report  of 
a  gun.  For  the  instant  he  thought  of  Koho, 
then  dismissed  the  conjecture  from  his  mind. 
Worth  and  Grief  had  taken  shotguns  with  them, 
and  it  was  probably  one  of  their  shots  at  a 
pigeon.  Wallenstein  lounged  back  in  his  chair, 
chuckled,  twisted  his  yellow  mustache,  and 
dozed.  He  was  aroused  by  the  excited  voice  of 
Worth,  crying  out: 

"Ring  the  big  fella  bell!  Ring  plenty  too 
much!  Ring  like  hell!" 

Wallenstein  gained  the  veranda  in  time  to 
see  the  manager  jump  his  horse  over  the  low 
fence  of  the  compound  and  dash  down  the  beach 
after  Grief,  who  was  riding  madly  ahead.  A 
loud  crackling  and  smoke  rising  through  the 
cocoanut  trees  told  the  story.  The  boat-houses 
and  the  barracks  were  on  fire.  The  big  plan 
tation  bell  was  ringing  wildly  as  the  German 
Resident  ran  down  the  beach,  and  he  could 
see  whaleboats  hastily  putting  off  from  the 
schooner. 

Barracks    and    boat-houses,    grass-thatched 


158  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  like  tinder,  were  wrapped  in  flames.  Grief 
emerged  from  the  kitchen,  carrying  a  naked 
black  child  by  the  leg.  Its  head  was  missing. 

"The  cook's  in  there,"  he  told  Worth.  "Her 
head's  gone,  too.  She  was  too  heavy,  and  I 
had  to  clear  out." 

"It  was  my  fault,"  Wallenstein  said.  "Old 
Koho  did  it.  But  I  let  him  take  a  drink  of 
Worth's  horse  liniment." 

"I  guess  he's  headed  for  the  bush,"  Worth 
said,  springing  astride  his  horse  and  starting. 
"Oliver  is  down  there  by  the  river.,  Hope  he 
didn't  get  him" 

The  manager  galloped  away  through  the  trees. 
A  few  minutes  later,  as  the  charred  wreck  of 
the  barracks  crashed  in,  they  heard  him  calling 
and  followed.  On  the  edge  of  the  river  bank 
they  came  upon  him.  He  still  sat  on  his  horse, 
very  white-faced,  and  gazed  at  something  on 
the  ground.  It  was  the  body  of  Oliver,  the 
young  assistant  manager,  though  it  was  hard  to 
realize  it,  for  the  head  was  gone.  The  black 
labourers,  breathless  from  their  run  in  from  the 
fields,  were  now  crowding  around,  and  under 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  159 

Grief's  direction  they  improvised  a  litter  for  the 
dead  man. 

Wallenstein  was  afflicted  with  paroxysms  of 
true  German  sorrow  and  contrition.  The  tears 
were  frankly  in  his  eyes  by  the  time  he  ceased 
from  lamenting  and  began  to  swear.  The  wrath 
that  flared  up  \vas  as  truly  German  as  the  oaths, 
and  when  he  tried  to  seize  Worth's  shotgun  a 
fleck  of  foam  had  appeared  on  his  lips. 

"None  of  that,"  Grief  commanded  sternly. 
"Straighten  up,  Wallenstein.  Don't  be  a  fool." 

"But  are  you  going  to  let  him  escape?"  the 
German  cried  wildly. 

"  He  has  escaped.  The  bush  begins  right  here 
at  the  river.  You  can  see  where  he  waded 
across.  He's  in  the  wild-pig  runs  already.  It 
would  be  like  the  needle  in  the  haystack,  and  if 
we  followed  him  some  of  his  young  men  would 
get  us.  Besides,  the  runs  are  all  man-trapped  - 
you  know,  staked  pits,  poisoned  thorns,  and  the 
rest.  McTavish  and  his  bushmen  are  the  only 
fellows  who  can  negotiate  the  runs,  and  three 
of  his  men  were  lost  that  way  the  last  time. 
Come  on  back  to  the  house.  You'll  hear  the 


160  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

conches  to-night,  and  the  war-drums,  and  all 
merry  hell  break  loose.  They  won't  rush  us, 
but  keep  all  the  boys  close  up  to  the  house,  Mr. 
Worth.  Come  on!" 

As  they  returned  along  the  path  they  came 
upon  a  black  who  whimpered  and  cried  vocifer 
ously. 

"  Shut  up  mouth  belong  you ! "  Worth  shouted. 
"What  name  you  make  'm  noise?" 

"Him  fella  Koho  finish  along  two  fella  bulla- 
macow,"  the  black  answered,  drawing  a  fore 
finger  significantly  across  his  throat. 

"He's  knifed  the  cows,"  Grief  said.  "That 
means  no  more  milk  for  some  time  for  you, 
Worth.  I'll  see  about  sending  a  couple  up  from 
Ugi." 

Wallenstein  proved  inconsolable,  until  Denby, 
coming  ashore,  confessed  to  the  dose  of  essence 
of  mustard.  Thereat  the  German  Resident  be 
came  even  cheerful,  though  he  twisted  his  yellow 
mustache  up  more  fiercely  and  continued  to 
curse  the  Solomons  with  oaths  culled  from  four 
languages. 

Next  morning,  visible  from  the  masthead  of 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  161 

the  Wonder,  the  bush  was  alive  with  signal- 
smokes.  From  promontory  to  promontory,  and 
back  through  the  solid  jungle,  the  smoke- 
pillars  curled  and  puffed  and  talked.  Remote 
villages  on  the  higher  peaks,  beyond  the  farthest 
raids  McTavish  had  ever  driven,  joined  in  the 
troubled  conversation.  From  across  the  river 
persisted  a  bedlam  of  conches;  while  from  every 
where,  drifting  for  miles  along  the  quiet  air, 
came  the  deep,  booming  reverberations  of  the 
great  war-drums  —  huge  tree  trunks,  hollowed 
by  fire  and  carved  with  tools  of  stone  and  shell. 
"You're  all  right  as  long  as  you  stay  close," 
Grief  told  his  manager.  "I've  got  to  get  along 
to  Guvutu.  They  won't  come  out  in  the  open 
and  attack  you.  Keep  the  work-gangs  close. 
Stop  the  clearing  till  this  blows  over.  They'll 
get  any  detached  gangs  you  send  out.  And, 
whatever  you  do,  don't  be  fooled  into  going  into 
the  bush  after  Koho.  If  you  do,  he'll  get  you. 
All  you've  got  to  do  is  wait  for  McTavish.  I'll 
send  him  up  with  a  bunch  of  his  Malaita  bush- 
men.  He's  the  only  man  who  can  go  inside. 
Also,  until  he  comes,  I'll  leave  Denby  with  you. 


162  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

You  don't  mind,  do  you,  Mr.  Denby?  I'll  send 
McTavish  up  with  the  Wanda,  and  you  can  go 
back  on  her  and  rejoin  the  Wonder.  Captain 
Ward  can  manage  without  you  for  a  trip." 

"It  was  just  what  I  was  going  to  volunteer," 
Denby  answered.  "I  never  dreamed  all  this 
muss  would  be  k'.cked  up  over  a  joke.  You  see, 
in  a  way  I  consider  myself  responsible  for  it." 

"So  am  I  responsible,"  Wallenstein  broke  in. 

"But  I  started  it,"  the  supercargo  urged. 

"Maybe  you  did,  but  I  carried  it  along." 

"And  Koho  finished  it,"  Grief  said. 

"At  any  rate,  I,  too,  shall  remain,"  said  the 
German. 

"I  thought  you  were  coming  to  Guvutu  with 
me,"  Grief  protested. 

"I  was.  But  this  is  my  jurisdiction,  partly, 
and  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself  in  it  com 
pletely.  I  shall  remain  and  help  get  things 

straight  again." 

V 

At  Guvutu,  Grief  sent  full  instructions  to  Mc 
Tavish  by  a  recruiting  ketch  which  was  just 
starting  for  Malaita.  Captain  Ward  sailed  in 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  163 

the  Wonder  for  the  Santa  Cruz  Islands;  and 
Grief,  borrowing  a  whaleboat  and  a  crew  of 
black  prisoners  from  the  British  Resident, 
crossed  the  channel  to  Guadalcanar,  to  examine 
the  grass  lands  back  of  Penduffryn. 

Three  weeks  later,  with  a  free  sheet  and  a 
lusty  breeze,  he  threaded  the  coral  patches  and 
surged  up  the  smooth  water  to  Guvutu  anchor 
age.  The  harbour  was  deserted,  save  for  a 
small  ketch  which  lay  close  in  to  the  shore  reef. 
Grief  recognized  it  as  the  Wanda.  She  had 
evidently  just  got  in  by  the  Tulagi  Passage,  for 
her  black  crew  was  still  at  work  furling  the  sails. 
As  he  rounded  .alongside,  McTavish  himself  ex 
tended  a  hand  to  help  him  over  the  rail. 

"What's  the  matter? "  Grief  asked.  "Haven't 
you  started  yet?" 

McTavish  nodded.  "And  got  back.  Every 
thing's  all  right  on  board." 

"How's  New  Gibbon?" 

"All  there,  the  last  I  saw  of  it,  ban-in'  a  few 
inconsequential  frills  that  a  good  eye  could  make 
out  lacking  from  the  landscape." 

He  was  a  cold  flame  of  a  man,  small  as  Koho, 


164  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  as  dried  up,  with  a  mahogany  complexion 
and  small,  expressionless  blue  eyes  that  were 
more  like  gimlet-points  than  the  eyes  of  a 
Scotchman.  Without  fear,  without  enthusiasm, 
impervious  to  disease  and  climate  and  sentiment, 
he  was  lean  and  bitter  and  deadly  as  a  snake. 
That  his  present  sour  look  boded  ill  news,  Grief 
was  well  aware. 

"Spit  it  out!"  he  said.     "What's  happened?" 

"'Tis  a  thing  severely  to  be  condemned,  a 
damned  shame,  this  joking  with  heathen  nig 
gers,"  was  the  reply.  "Also,  'tis  very  expensive. 
Come  below,  Mr.  Grief.  You'll  be  better  for 
the  information  with  a  long  glass  in  your  hand. 
After  you." 

"How  did  you  settle  things?"  his  employer 
demanded  as  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  the 
cabin. 

The  little  Scotchman  shook  his  head.  "There 
was  nothing  to  settle.  It  all  depends  how  you 
look  at  it.  The  other  way  would  be  to  say  it 
was  settled,  entirely  settled,  mind  you,  before 
I  got  there." 

"But  the  plantation,  man?     The  plantation?  " 


JOKERS  OF  NEW  GIBBON  165 

"No  plantation.  All  the  years  of  our  work 
have  gone  for  naught.  'Tis  back  where  we 
started,  where  the  missionaries  started,  where 
the  Germans  started  —  and  where  they  finished. 
Not  a  stone  stands  on  another  at  the  landing 
pier.  The  houses  are  black  ashes.  Every  tree 
is  hacked  down,  and  the  wild  pigs  are  rooting 
out  the  yams  and  sweet  potatoes.  Those  boys 
from  New  Georgia,  a  fine  bunch  they  were,  five 
score  of  them,  and  they  cost  you  a  pretty  penny. 
Not  one  is  left  to  tell  the  tale." 

He  paused  and  began  fumbling  in  a  large 
locker  under  the  companion-steps. 

"But  Worth?  And  Denby?  And  Wallen- 
stein?" 

"That's  what  I'm  telling  you.     Take  a  look." 

McTavish  dragged  out  a  sack  made  of  rice 
matting  and  emptied  its  contents  on  the  floor. 
David  Grief  pulled  himself  together  with  a  jerk, 
for  he  found  himself  gazing  fascinated  at  the 
heads  of  the  three  men  he  had  left  at  New  Gib 
bon.  The  yellow  mustache  of  Wallenstein  had 
lost  its  fierce  curl  and  drooped  and  wilted  on  the 
upper  lip. 


166  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"I  don't  know  how  it  happened,"  the  Scotch 
man's  voice  went  on  drearily.  "But  I  surmise 
they  went  into  the  bush  after  the  okTdevil." 

"And  where  is  Koho?"  Grief  asked. 

"Back  in  the  bush  and  drunk  as  a  lord.  That's 
how  I  was  able  to  recover  the  heads.  He  was 
too  drunk  to  stand.  They  lugged  him  on  their 
backs  out  of  the  village  when  I  rushed  it.  And 
if  you'll  relieve  me  of  the  heads,  I'll  be  well 
obliged."  He  paused  and  sighed.  "I  suppose 
they'll  have  regular  funerals  over  them  and  put 
them  in  the  ground.  But  in  my  way  of  thinking 
they'd  make  excellent  curios.  Any  respectable 
museum  would  pay  a  hundred  quid  apiece. 
Better  have  another  drink.  You're  looking  a 

bit  pale There,  put  that  down  you,  and 

if  you'll  take  my  advice,  Mr.  Grief,  I  would  say, 
set  your  face  sternly  against  any  joking  with  the 
niggers.  It  always  makes  trouble,  and  it  is  a 
very  expensive  divertisement." 


Chapter  Five 

A    LITTLE    ACCOUNT    WITH   SWITHIN 

HALL 


With  a  last  long  scrutiny  at  the  unbroken 
circle  of  the  sea,  David  Grief  swung  out  of  the 
cross-trees  and  slowly  and  dejectedly  descended 
the  ratlines  to  the  deck. 

"Leu-Leu  Atoll  is  sunk,  Mr.  Snow,"  he  said 
tq.  the  anxious-faced  young  mate.  "If  there 
is  anything  in  navigation,  the  atoll  is  surely 
under  the  sea,  for  we've  sailed  clear  over  it 
twice  —  or  the  spot  where  it  ought  to  be.  It's 
either  that  or  the  chronometer's  gone  wrong, 
or  I've  forgotten  my  navigation." 

"It  must  be  the  chronometer,  sir,"  the  mate 
reassured  his  owner.  :<You  know  I  made  sepa 
rate  sights  and  worked  them  up,  and  that  they 
agreed  with  yours." 

167 


168  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"  Yes,"  Grief  muttered,  nodding  glumly,  "and 
where  your  Summer  lines  crossed,  and  mine, 
too,  was  the  dead  centre  of  Leu-Leu  Atoll.  It 
must  be  the  chronometer  —  slipped  a  cog  or 
something." 

He  made  a  short  pace  to  the  rail  and  back, 
and  cast  a  troubled  eye  at  the  Uncle  Toby's 
wake.  The  schooner,  with  a  fairly  strong  breeze 
on  her  quarter,  was  logging  nine  or  ten  knots. 

"Better  bring  her  up  on  the  wind,  Mr.  Snow. 
Put  her  under  easy  sail  and  let  her  work  to  wind 
ward  on  two-hour  legs.  It's  thickening  up, 
and  I  don't  imagine  we  can  get  a  star  obser 
vation  to-night;  so  we'll  just  hold  our  weather 
position,  get  a  latitude  sight  to-morrow,  and  run 
Leu-Leu  down  on  her  own  latitude.  That's 
the  way  all  the  old  navigators  did." 

Broad  of  beam,  heavily  sparred,  with  high 
freeboard  and  bluff,  Dutchy  bow,  the  Uncle 
Toby  was  the  slowest,  tubbiest,  safest,  and  most 
fool-proof  schooner  David  Grief  possessed.  Her 
run  was  in  the  Banks  and  Santa  Cruz  groups 
and  to  the  northwest  among  the  several  isolated 
atolls  where  his  native  traders  collected  copra, 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       169 

hawksbill  turtle,  and  an  occasional  ton  of  pearl 
shell.  Finding  the  skipper  down  with  a  par 
ticularly  bad  stroke  of  fever.  Grief  had  relieved 
him  and  taken  the  Uncle  Toby  on  her  semi 
annual  run  to  the  atolls.  He  had  elected  to 
make  his  first  call  at  Leu-Leu,  which  lay  farthest, 
and  now  found  himself  lost  at  sea  with  a  chro 
nometer  that  played  tricks. 

II 

No  stars  showed  that  night,  nor  was  the  sun 
visible  next  day.  A  stuffy,  sticky  calm  ob 
tained,  broken  by  big  wind-squalls  and  heavy 
downpours.  From  fear  of  working  too  far  to 
windward,  the  Uncle  Toby  was  hove  to,  and  four 
days  and  nights  of  cloud-hidden  sky  followed. 
Never  did  the  sun  appear,  and  on  the  several 
occasions  that  stars  broke  through  they  were 
too  dim  and  fleeting  for  identification.  By  this 
time  it  was  patent  to  the  veriest  tyro  that  the 
elements  were  preparing  to  break  loose.  Grief, 
coming  on  deck  from  consulting  the  barometer, 
which  steadfastly  remained  at  29.90,  encounter 
ed  Jackie-Jackie,  whose  face  was  as  brooding 


170  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  troublous  as  the  sky  and  air.  Jackie-Jackie, 
a  Tongan  sailor  of  experience,  served  as  a  sort 
of  bosun  and  semi-second  mate  over  the  mixed 
Kanaka  crew. 

"Big  weather  he  come,  I  think,"  he  said. 
"I  see  him  just  the  same  before  maybe  five, 
six  times." 

Grief  nodded.  "Hurricane  weather,  all  right, 
Jackie- Jackie.  Pretty  soon  barometer  go  down 

-  bottom  fall  out." 

"Sure,"  the  Tongan  concurred.  "He  goin' 
to  blow  like  hell." 

Ten  minutes  later  Snow  came  on  deck. 

"She's  started,"  he  said;  "29.85,  going  down 
and  pumping  at  the  same  time.  It's  stinking 
hot  —  don't  you  notice  it?"  He  brushed  his 
forehead  with  his  hands.  "It's  sickening.  I 
could  lose  my  breakfast  without  trying." 

Jackie- Jackie  grinned.  "Just  the  same  me. 
Everything  inside  walk  about.  Always  this 
way  before  big  blow.  But  Uncle  Toby  all  right. 
He  go  through  anything." 

"Better  rig  that  storm -trysail  on  the  main, 
and  a  storm-jib,"  Grief  said  to  the  mate.  "And 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL        171 

put  all  the  reefs  into  the  working  canvas  before 
you  furl  down.  No  telling  what  we  may  need. 
Put  on  double  gaskets  while  you're  about  it." 

In  another  hour,  the  sultry  oppressiveness 
steadily  increasing  and  the  stark  calm  still 
continuing,  the  barometer  had  rallen  to  29.70. 
The  mate,  being  young,  lacked  the  patience  of 
waiting  for  the  portentous.  He  ceased  his  rest 
less  pacing,  and  waved  his  arms. 

"If  she's  going  to  come  let  her  come!"  he 
cried.  "There's  no  use  shilly-shallying  this 
way!  Whatever  the  worst  is,  let  us  know  it 
and  have  it!  A  pretty  pickle  —  lost  with  a 
crazy  chronometer  and  a  hurricane  that  won't 
blow!" 

The  cloud-mussed  sky  turned  to  a  vague 
copper  colour,  and  seemed  to  glow  as  the  inside 
of  a  huge  heated  caldron.  Nobody  remained 
below.  The  native  sailors  formed  in  anxious 
groups  amidships  and  for'ard,  where  they  talked 
in  low  voices  and  gazed  apprehensively  at  the 
ominous  sky  and  the  equally  ominous  sea  that 
breathed  in  long,  low,  oily  undulations. 

"Looks   like   petroleum   mixed   with   castor 


172  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

oil,"  the  mate  grumbled,  as  he  spat  his  disgust 
overside.  "My  mother  used  to  dose  me  with 
messes  like  that  when  I  was  a  kid.  Lord,  she's 
getting  black!" 

The  lurid  coppery  glow  had  vanished,  and  the 
sky  thickened  and  lowered  until  the  darkness 
was  as  that  of  a  late  twilight.  David  Grief, 
who  well  knew  the  hurricane  rules,  neverthe 
less  reread  the  "Laws  of  Storms,"  screwing  his 
eyes  in  the  faint  light  in  order  to  see  the  print. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  done  save  wait  for  the 
wind,  so  that  he  might  know  how  he  lay  in 
relation  to  the  fast-flying  and  deadly  centre  that 
from  somewhere  was  approaching  out  of  the 
gloom. 

It  was  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  glass 
had  sunk  to  29:45,  when  the  wind  came.  They 
could  see  it  on  the  water,  darkening  the  face  of  the 
sea,  crisping  tiny  whitecaps  as  it  rushed  along. 
It  was  merely  a  stiff  breeze,  and  the  Uncle  Toby, 
filling  away  under  her  storm  canvas  till  the  wind 
was  abeam,  sloshed  along  at  a  four-knot  gait. 

"No  weight  to  that,"  Snow  sneered.  "And 
after  such  grand  preparation!" 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       173 

"Pickaninny  wind,"  Jackie-Jackie  agreed. 
"He  grow  big  man  pretty  quick,  you  see." 

Grief  ordered  the  foresail  put  on,  retaining 
the  reefs,  and  the  Uncle  Toby  mended  her  pace 
in  the  rising  breeze.  The  wind  quickly  grew  to 
man's  size,  but  did  not  stop  there.  It  merely 
blew  hard,  and  harder,  and  kept  on  blowing 
harder,  advertising  each  increase  by  lulls  fol 
lowed  by  fierce,  freshening  gusts.  Ever  it  grew, 
until  the  Uncle  Toby's  rail  was  more  often 
pressed  under  than  not,  while  her  waist  boiled 
with  foaming  water  which  the  scuppers  could 
not  carry  off.  Grief  studied  the  barometer, 
still  steadily  falling. 

"The  centre  is  to  the  south'ard,"  he  told 
Snow,  "and  we're  running  across  its  path  and 
into  it.  Now  we'll  turn  about  and  run  the 
other  way.  That  ought  to  bring  the  glass  up. 
Take  in  the  foresail  —  it's  more  than  she  can 
carry  already  —  and  stand  by  to  wear  her 
around." 

The  maneuver  was  accomplished,  and  through 
the  gloom  that  was  almost  that  of  the  first 
darkness  of  evening  the  Uncle  Toby  turned 


174  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  raced  madly  north  across  the  face  of  the 
storm. 

"It's  nip  and  tuck,"  Grief  confided  to  the 
mate  a  couple  of  hours  later.  "The  storm's 
swinging  a  big  curve  —  there's  no  calculating 
that  curve  —  and  we  may  win  across  or  the 
centre  may  catch  us.  Thank  the  Lord,  the 
glass  is  holding  its  own.  It  all  depends  on  how 
big  the  curve  is.  The  sea's  too  big  for  us  to 
keep  on.  Heave  her  to!  She'll  keep  working 
along  out  anyway." 

"I  thought  I  knew  what  wind  was,"  Snow 
shouted  in  his  owner's  ear  next  morning.  "This 
isn't  wind.  It's  something  unthinkable.  It's 
impossible.  It  must  reach  ninety  or  a  hundred 
miles  an  hour  in  the  gusts.  That  don't  mean 
anything.  How  could  I  ever  tell  it  to  anybody? 
I  couldn't.  And  look  at  that  sea!  I've  run 
my  Easting  down,  but  I  never  saw  anything 
like  that." 

Day  had  come,  and  the  sun  should  have  been 
up  an  hour,  yet  the  best  it  could  produce  was  a 
sombre  semi-twilight.  The  ocean  was  a  stately 
procession  of  moving  mountains.  A  third  of 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       175 

a  mile  across  yawned  the  valleys  between  the 
great  waves.  Their  long  slopes,  shielded  some 
what  from  the  full  fury  of  the  wind,  were  broken 
by  systems  of  smaller  whitecapping  waves,  but 
from  the  high  crests  of  the  big  waves  themselves 
the  wind  tore  the  whitecaps  in  the  forming. 
This  spume  drove  masthead  high,  and  higher, 
horizontally,  above  the  surface  of  the  sea. 

"We're  through  the  worst,"  was  Grief's 
judgment.  "The  glass  is  coming  along  all  the 
time.  The  sea  will  get  bigger  as  the  wind  eases 
down.  I'm  going  to  turn  in.  Watch  for  shifts 
in  the  wind.  They'll  be  sure  to  come.  Call 
me  at  eight  bells." 

By  mid-afternoon,  in  a  huge  sea,  with  the 
wind  after  its  last  shift  no  more  than  a  stiff 
breeze,  the  Tongan  bosun  sighted  a  schooner 
bottom  up.  The  Uncle  Toby's  drift  took  them 
across  the  bow  and  they  could  not  make  out 
the  name;  but  before  night  they  picked  up  with 
a  small,  round-bottom,  double-ender  boat, 
swamped  but  with  white  lettering  visible  on  its 
bow.  Through  the  binoculars,  Gray  made  out: 
Emily  L  No.  3. 


176  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"A  sealing  schooner,"  Grief  said.  "But 
what  a  sealer's  doing  in  these  waters  is  be 
yond  me." 

"Treasure-hunters,  maybe?"  Snow  specu 
lated.  "The  Sophie  Sutherland  and  the  Herman 
were  sealers,  you  remember,  chartered  out  of 
San  Francisco  by  the  chaps  with  the  maps  who 
can  always  go  right  to  the  spot  until  they  get 
there  and  don't." 

Ill 

After  a  giddy  night  of  grand  and  lofty  tum 
bling,  in  which,  over  a  big  and  dying  sea,  without 
a  breath  of  wind  to  steady  her,  the  Uncle  Toby 
rolled  every  person  on  board  sick  of  soul,  a  light 
breeze  sprang  up  and  the  reefs  were  shaken 
out.  By  midday,  on  a  smooth  ocean  floor,  the 
clouds  thinned  and  cleared  and  sights  of  the  sun 
were  obtained.  Two  degrees  and  fifteen  minutes 
south,  the  observation  gave  them.  With  a 
broken  chronometer  longitude  was  out  of  the 
question. 

"We're  anywhere  within  five  hundred  and  a 
thousand  miles  along  that  latitude  line,"  Grief 
remarked,  as  he  and  the  mate  bent  over  the  chart. 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       177 

"Leu-Leu  is  to  the  southward  somewhere,  and 
this  section  of  ocean  is  all  blank.  There  is 
neither  an  island  nor  a  reef  by  which  we  can 
regulate  the  chronometer.  The  only  thing  to 
do " 

"Land  ho,  skipper!"  the  Tongan  called  down 
the  companionway. 

Grief  took  a  quick  glance  at  the  empty  blank 
of  the  chart,  whistled  his  surprise,  and  sank 
back  feebly  in  a  chair. 

"It  gets  me,"  he  said.  "There  can't  be  land 
around  here.  We  never  drifted  or  ran  like 
that.  The  whole  voyage  has  been  crazy.  Will 
you  kindly  go  up,  Mr.  Snow,  and  see  what's 
ailing  Jackie." 

"It's  land  all  right,"  the  mate  called  down  a 
minute  afterward.  "You  can  see  it  from  the 
deck  —  tops  of  cocoanuts  —  an  atoll  of  some 
sort.  Maybe  it's  Leu-Leu  after  all." 

Grief  shook  his  head  positively  as  he  gazed 
at  the  fringe  of  palms,  only  the  tops  visible, 
apparently  rising  out  of  the  sea. 

"Haul  up  on  the  wind,  Mr.  Snow,  close-and- 
by,  and  we'll  take  a  look.  We  can  just  reach 


178  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

past  to  the  south,  and  if  it  spreads  off  in  that 
direction  we'll  hit  the  southwest  corner." 

Very  near  must  palms  be  to  be  seen  from  the 
low  deck  of  a  schooner,  and,  slowly  as  the  Uncle 
Toby  sailed,  she  quickly  raised  the  low  land 
above  the  sea,  while  more  palms  increased  the 
definition  of  the  atoll  circle. 

"She's  a  beauty,"  the  mate  remarked.  "A 
perfect  circle.  .  .  .  Looks  as  if  it  might  be 
eight  or  nine  miles  across.  .  .  .  Wonder  if 
there's  an  entrance  to  the  lagoon.  .  .  .  Who 
knows?  Maybe  it's  a  brand  new  find." 

They  coasted  up  the  west  side  of  the  atoll, 
making  short  tacks  in  to  the  surf -pounded  coral 
rock  and  out  again.  From  the  masthead,  across 
the  palm-fringe,  a  Kanaka  announced  the  lagoon 
and  a  small  island  in  the  middle. 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking,"  Grief  said 
to  his  mate. 

Snow,  who  had  been  muttering  and  shaking 
his  head,  looked  up  with  quick  and  challenging 
incredulity. 

"You're  thinking  the  entrance  will  be  on 
the  northwests"  Grief  went  on,  as  if  reciting. 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL        179 

"Two  cable  lengths  wide,  marked  on  the  north 
by  three  separated  cocoanuts,  and  on  the  south 
by  pandanus  trees.  Eight  miles  in  diameter, 
a  perfect  circle,  with  an  island  in  the  dead 
centre." 

"I  was  thinking  that,"  Snow  acknowledged. 

"And  there's  the  entrance  opening  up  just 
where  it  ought  to  be " 

"And  the  three  palms,"  Snow  almost  whis 
pered,  "and  the  pandanus  trees.  If  there's  a 
windmill  on  the  island,  it's  it  —  Swithin  Hall's 
island.  But  it  can't  be.  Everybody's  been 
looking  for  it  for  the  last  ten  years." 

"Hall  played  you  a  dirty  trick  once,  didn't 
he?"  Grief  queried. 

Snow  nodded.  "That's  why  I'm  working 
for  you.  He  broke  me  flat.  It  was  downright 
robbery.  I  bought  the  wreck  of  the  Cascade, 
down  in  Sydney,  out  of  a  first  instalment  of  a 
legacy  from  home." 

"She  went  on  Christmas  Island,  didn't  she?" 

"Yes,  full  tilt,  high  and  dry,  in  the  night. 
They  saved  the  passengers  and  mails.  Then 
I  bought  a  little  island  schooner,  which  took  the 


180  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

rest  of  my  money,  and  I  had  to  wait  the  final 
payment  by  the  executors  to  fit  her  out.  What 
did  Swithin  Hall  do  —  he  was  at  Honolulu 
at  the  time  —  but  make  a  straightaway  run  for 
Christmas  Island.  Neither  right  nor  title  did 
he  have.  When  I  got  there,  the  hull  and  engines 
were  all  that  was  left  of  the  Cascade.  She  had 
had  a  fair  shipment  of  silk  on  board,  too.  And 
it  wasn't  even  damaged.  I  got  it  afterward 
pretty  straight  from  his  supercargo.  He  cleared 
something  like  sixty  thousand  dollars." 

Snow  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  gazed  bleakly 
at  the  smooth  surface  of  the  lagoon,  where  tiny 
wavelets  danced  in  the  afternoon  sun. 

"The  wreck  was  mine.  I  bought  her  at  pub 
lic  auction.  I'd  gambled  big,  and  I'd  lost. 
When  I  got  back  to  Sydney,  the  crew,  and  some 
of  the  tradesmen  who'd  extended  me  credit, 
libelled  the  schooner.  I  pawned  my  watch  and 
sextant,  and  shovelled  coal  one  spell,  and  finally 
got  a  billet  in  the  New  Hebrides  on  a  screw  of 
eight  pounds  a  month.  Then  I  tried  my  luck 
as  independent  trader,  went  broke,  took  a  mate's 
billet  on  a  recruiter  down  to  Tanna  and  over 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       181 

to  Fiji,  got  a  job  as  overseer  on  a  German  plan 
tation  back  of  Apia,  and  finally  settled  down  on 
the  Uncle  Toby" 

"Have  you  ever  met  Swithin  Hall?" 

Snow  shook  his  head. 

"Well,    you're    likely    to    meet    him    now. 
There's  the  windmill." 

In  the  centre  of  the  lagoon,  as  they  emerged 
from  the  passage,  they  opened  a  small,  densely 
wooded  island,  among  the  trees  of  which  a 
large  Dutch  windmill  showed  plainly. 

"Nobody  at  home  from  the  looks  of  it,"  Grief 
said,  "or  you  might  have  a  chance  to  collect." 

The  mate's  face  set  vindictively,  and  his  fists 
clenched. 

"  Can't  touch  him  legally.  He's  got  too  much 
money  now.  But  I  can  take  sixty  thousand 
dollars'  worth  out  of  his  hide.  I  hope  he  is  at 
home." 

"Then  I  hope  he  is,  too,"  Grief  said,  with  an 
appreciative  smile.  "You  got  the  description 
of  his  island  from  Bau-Oti,  I  suppose?" 

''Yes,  as  pretty  well  everybody  else  has. 
The  trouble  is  that  Bau-Oti  can't  give  latitude 


182  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

or  longitude.  Says  they  sailed  a  long  way  from 
the  Gilberts  —  that's  all  he  knows.  I  wonder 
what  became  of  him." 

"  I  saw  him  a  year  ago  on  the  beach  at  Tahiti. 
Said  he  was  thinking  about  shipping  for  a 
cruise  through  the  Paumotus.  Well,  here  we 
are,  getting  close  in.  Heave  the  lead,  Jackie- 
Jackie.  Stand  by  to  let  go,  Mr.  Snow.  Ac 
cording  to  Bau-Oti,  anchorage  three  hundred 
yards  off  the  west  shore  in  nine  fathoms, 
coral  patches  to  the  southeast.  There  are  the 
patches.  What  do  you  get,  Jackie?" 

"  Nine  f adorn." 

"Let  go,  Mr.  Snow." 

The  Uncle  Toby  swung  to  her  chain,  head- 
sails  ran  down,  and  the  Kanaka  crew  sprang 
to  fore  and  main-halyards  and  sheets. 

IV 

The  whaleboat  laid  alongside  the  small,  coral- 
stone  landing-pier,  and  David  Grief  and  his 
mate  stepped  ashore. 

"You'd  think  the  place  deserted,"  Grief  said, 
as  they  walked  up  a  sanded  path  to  the  bunga- 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL        183 

low.  "But  I  smell  a  smell  that  I've  often 
smelled.  Something  doing,  or  my  nose  is  a 
liar.  The  lagoon  is  carpeted  with  shell. 
They're  rotting  the  meat  out  not  a  thousand 
miles  away.  Get  that  whiff?" 

Like  no  bungalow  in  the  tropics  was  this 
bungalow  of  S within  Hall.  Of  mission  archi 
tecture,  when  they  had  entered  through  the 
unlatched  screen  door  they  found  decoration 
and  furniture  of  the  same  mission  style.  The 
floor  of  the  big  living-room  was  covered  with 
the  finest  Samoan  mats.  There  were  couches, 
window  seats,  cozy  corners,  and  a  billiard  table. 
A  sewing  table,  and  a  sewing-basket,  spilling 
over  with  sheer  linen  in  the  French  embroidery 
of  which  stuck  a  needle,  tokened  a  woman's 
prese,  ce.  By  screen  and  veranda  the  blinding 
sunshine  was  subdued  to  a  cool,  dim  radiance. 
The  sheen  of  pearl  push-buttons  caught  Grief's 
eye. 

"Storage  batteries,  by  George,  run  by  the 
windmill!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  pressed  the  but 
tons.  "And  concealed  lighting!" 

Hidden   bowls   glowed,   and   the   room   was 


184  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

filled  with  diffused  golden  light.  Many  shelves 
of  books  lined  the  walls.  Grief  fell  to  running 
over  their  titles  .1  A  fairly  well-read  man  him 
self,  for  a  sea-adventurer,  he  glimpsed  a  wide- 
ness  of  range  and  catholicity  of  taste  that  were 
beyond  him.  Old  friends  he  met,  and  others 
that  he  had  heard  of  but  never  read.  There 
were  complete  sets  of  Tolstoy,  Turgenieff,  and 
Gorky;  of  Cooper  and  Mark  Twain;  of  Hugo, 
and  Zola,  and  Sue;  and  of  Flaubert,  De  Mau 
passant,  and  Paul  de  Koch.  He  glanced  curi 
ously  at  the  pages  of  Metchnikoff,  Weininger, 
and  Schopenhauer,  and  wonderingly  at  those 
of  Ellis,  Lydston,  Krafft-Ebbing,  and  Forel. 
Woodruff's  "Expansion  of  Races"  was  in  his 
hands  when  Snow  returned  from  further  ex 
ploration  of  the  house. 

"Enamelled  bath-tub,  separate  room  for  a 
shower,  and  a  sitz-bath!"  he  exclaimed.  "Fit 
ted  up  for  a  king!  And  I  reckon  some  of  my 
money  went  to  pay  for  it.  The  place  must  be 
occupied.  I  found  fresh-opened  butter  and  milk 
tins  in  the  pantry,  and  fresh  turtle-meat  hanging 
up.  I'm  going  to  see  what  else  I  can  find.". 


''From  the  color  in  her  cheeks,  Grief  concluded  that  she 
had  not  been  long  in  the  tropics  " 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL        185 

Grief,  too,  departed,  through  a  door  that  led 
out  of  the  opposite  end  of  the  living-room.  He 
found  himself  in  a  self-evident  woman's  bedroom. 
Across  it,  he  peered  through  a  wire-mesh  door 
into  a  screened  and  darkened  sleeping  porch. 
On  a  couch  lay  a  woman  asleep.  In  the  soft 
light  she  seemed  remarkably  beautiful  in  a  dark 
Spanish  way.  By  her  side,  opened  and  face 
downward,  a  novel  lay  on  a  chair.  From  the 
colour  in  her  cheeks,  Grief  concluded  that  she 
had  not  been  long  in  the  tropics.  After  the 
one  glimpse  he  stole  softly  back,  in  time  to  see 
Snow  entering  the  living-room  through  the 
other  door.  By  the  naked  arm  he  was  clutch 
ing  an  age-wrinkled  black  who  grinned  in  fear 
and  made  signs  of  dumbness. 

"I  found  him  snoozing  in  a  little  kennel  out 
back,"  the  mate  said.  "He's  the  cook,  I  sup 
pose.  Can't  get  a  word  out  of  him.  What 
did  you  find?" 

"A  sleeping  princess.  S-sh!  There's  some 
body  now." 

"If  it's  Hall,"  Snow  muttered,  clenching  his 
fist. 


186  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Grief  shook  his  head.  "No  rough-house. 
There's  a  woman  here.  And  if  it  is  Hall,  be 
fore  we  go  I'll  maneuver  a  chance  for  you  to 
get  action." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  large,  heavily  built 
man  entered.  In  his  belt  was  a  heavy,  long- 
barrelled  Colt's.  One  quick,  anxious  look  he 
gave  them,  then  his  face  wreathed  in  a  genial 
smile  and  his  hand  was  extended. 

"Welcome,  strangers.  But  if  you  don't 
mind  my  asking,  how,  by  all  that's  sacred,  did 
you  ever  manage  to  find  my  island?" 

"Because  we  were  out  of  our  course,"  Grief 
answered,  shaking  hands. 

"My  name's  Hall,  Swithin  Hall,"  the  other 
said,  turning  to  shake  Snow's  hand.  "And  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  you're  the  first 
visitors-  I've  ever  had." 

"And  this  is  your  secret  island  that's  had  all 
the  beaches  talking  for  years?"  Grief  answered. 
"Well,  I  know  the  formula  now  for  finding 
it." 

"How's  that?"  Hall  asked  quickly. 

"Smash    your    chronometer,    get    mixed    up 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       187 

with  a  hurricane,  and  then  keep  your  eyes  open 
for  cocoanuts  rising  out  of  the  sea." 

"And  what  is  your  name?"  Hall  asked,  after 
he  had  laughed  perfunctorily. 

"Anstey —  Phil  Anstey,"  Grief  answered 
promptly.  "Bound  on  the  Uncle  Toby  from 
the  Gilberts  to  New  Guinea,  and  trying  to  find 
my  longitude.  This  is  my  mate,  Mr.  Gray,  a 
better  navigator  than  I,  but  who  has  lost  his 
goat  just  the  same  to  the  chronometer." 

Grief  did  not  know  his  reason  for  lying,  but 
he  had  felt  the  prompting  and  succumbed  to  it. 
He  vaguely  divined  that  something  was  wrong, 
but  could  not  place  his  finger  on  it.  Swithin 
Hall  was  a  fat,  round-faced  man,  with  a  laugh 
ing  lip  and  laughter-wrinkles  in  the  corners  of 
his  eyes.  But  Grief,  in  his  early  youth,  had 
learned  how  deceptive  this  type  could  prove, 
as  well  as  the  deceptiveness  of  blue  eyes  that 
screened  the  surface  with  fun  and  hid  what 
went  on  behind. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  my  cook?  — 
lost  yours  and  trying  to  shanghai  him?"  Hall 
was  saying.  "You'd  better  let  him  go,  if  you're 


188  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

going  to  have  any  supper.  My  wife's  here, 
and  she'll  be  glad  to  meet  you  —  dinner,  she 
calls  it,  and  calls  me  down  for  misnaming  it, 
but  I'm  old  fashioned.  My  folks  always  ate 
dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  Can't  get  over 
early  training.  Don't  you  want  to  wash  up? 
I  do.  Look  at  me.  I've  been  working  like  a 
dog — out  with  the  diving  crew  —  shell,  you 
know.  But  of  course  you  smelt  it.'* 


Snow  pleaded  charge  of  the  schooner,  and 
went  on  board.  In  addition  to  his  repugnance 
at  breaking  salt  with  the  man  who  had  robbed 
him,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  impress  the  in- 
violableness  of  Grief's  lies  on  the  Kanaka  crew. 
By  eleven  o'clock  Grief  came  on  board,  to  find 
his  mate  waiting  up  for  him. 

"There's  something  doing  on  Swithin  Hall's 
island,"  Grief  said,  shaking  his  head.  "I  can't 
make  out  what  it  is,  but  I  get  the  feel  of  it. 
What  does  Swithin  Hall  look  like?" 

Snow  shook  his  head. 

"That  man  ashore  there  never  bought  the 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       189 

books  on  the  shelves,"  Grief  declared  with 
conviction.  "Nor  did  he  ever  go  in  for  con 
cealed  lighting.  He's  got  a  surface  flow  of 
suavity,  but  he's  rough  as  a  hoof -rasp  under 
neath.  He's  an  oily  bluff.  And  the  bunch 
he's  got  with  him  —  Watson  and  Gorman  their 
names  are;  they  came  in  after  you  left  —  real 
sea-dogs,  middle-aged,  marred  and  battered, 
tough  as  rusty  wrought-iron  nails  and  twice  as 
dangerous;  real  ugly  customers,  with  guns  in 
their  belts,  who  don't  strike  me  as  just  the  right 
sort  to  be  on  such  comradely  terms  with  Swithin 
Hall.  And  the  woman!  She's  a  lady.  I  mean 
it.  She  knows  a  whole  lot  of  South  America, 
and  of  China,  too.  I'm  sure  she's  Spanish, 
though  her  English  is  natural.  She's  travelled. 
We  talked  bull-fights.  She's  seen  them  in  Guay 
aquil,  in  Mexico,  in  Seville.  She  knows  a  lot 
about  sealskins. 

"Now  here's  what  bothers  me.  She  knows 
music.  I  asked  her  if  she  played.  And  he's 
fixed  that  place  up  like  a  palace.  That  being 
so,  why  hasn't  he  a  piano  for  her?  Another 
thing:  she's  quick  and  lively  and  he  watches 


190  \  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

her  whenever  she  talks.  He's  on  pins  and  nee 
dles,  and  continually  breaking  in  and  leading 
the  conversation.  Say,  did  you  ever  hear  that 
S within  Hall  was  married?" 

"Bless  me,  I  don't  know,"  the  mate  replied. 
"Never  entered  my  head  to  think  about  it." 

"He  introduced  her  as  Mrs.  Hall.  And  Wat 
son  and  Gorman  call  him  Hall.  They're  a 
precious  pair,  those  two  men.  I  don't  under 
stand  it  at  all." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  Snow 
asked. 

"Oh,  hang  around  a  while.  There  are  some 
books  ashore  there  I  want  to  read.  Suppose 
you  send  that  topmast  down  in  the  morning 
and  generally  overhaul.  We've  been  through 
a  hurricane,  you  know.  Set  up  the  rigging 
while  you're  about  it.  Get  things  pretty  well 
adrift,  and  take  your  time." 

VI 

The  next  day  Grief's  suspicions  found  further 
food.  Ashore  early,  he  strolled  across  the  little 
island  to  the  barracks  occupied  by  the  divers. 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL        191 

They  were  just  boarding  the  boats  when  he 
arrived,  and  it  struck  him  that  for  Kanakas 
they  behaved  more  like  chain-gang  prisoners. 
The  three  white  men  were  there,  and  Grief 
noted  that  each  carried  a  rifle.  Hall  greeted 
him  jovially  enough,  but  Gorman  and  Watson 
scowled  as  they  grunted  curt  good  mornings. 

A  moment  afterward  one  of  the  Kanakas,  as 
he  bent  to  place  his  oar,  favoured  Grief  with  a 
slow,  deliberate  wink.  The  man's  face  was 
familiar,  one  of  the  thousands  of  native  sailors 
and  divers  he  had  encountered  drifting  about 
in  the  island  trade. 

"Don't  tell  them  who  I  am,"  Grief  said,  in 
Tahitian.  "Did  you  ever  sail  for  me?" 

The  man's  head  nodded  and  his  mouth 
opened,  but  before  he  could  speak  he  was  sup 
pressed  by  a  savage  "Shut  up!"  from  WTatson, 
who  was  already  in  the  sternsheets. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  Grief  said.  "I  ought  to 
have  known  better." 

"That's  all  right,"  Hall  interposed.  "The 
trouble  is  they're  too  much  talk  and  not 
enough  work.  Have  to  be  severe  with  them, 


192  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

or  they  wouldn't  get  enough  shell  to  pay  their 
grub." 

Grief  nodded  sympathetically.  "I  know 
them.  Got  a  crew  of  them  myself  —  the  lazy 
swine.  Got  to  drive  them  like  niggers  to  get  a 
half -day's  work  out  of  them." 

"What  was  you  sayin'  to  him?"  Gorman 
blurted  in  bluntly. 

"I  was  asking  how  the  shell  was,  and  how 
deep  they  were  diving." 

"Thick,"  Hall  took  over  the  answering. 
"We're  working  now  in  about  ten  fathom. 
It's  right  out  there,  not  a  hundred  yards  off. 
Want  to  come  along?" 

Half  the  day  Grief  spent  with  the  boats,  and 
had  lunch  in  the  bungalow.  In  the  afternoon 
he  loafed,  taking  a  siesta  in  the  big  living-room, 
reading  some,  and  talking  for  half  an  hour  with 
Mrs.  Hall.  After  dinner,  he  played  billiards 
with  her  husband.  It  chanced  that  Grief  had 
never  before  encountered  Swithin  Hall,  yet  the 
latter's  fame  as  an  expert  at  billiards  was  the 
talk  of  the  beaches  from  Levuka  to  Honolulu. 
But  the  man  Grief  played  with  this  night  proved 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL      193 

most  indifferent  at  the  game.  His  wife  showed 
herself  far  cleverer  with  the  cue. 

When  he  went  on  board  the  Uncle  Toby 
Grief  routed  Jackie- Jackie  out  of  bed.  He  de 
scribed  the  location  of  the  barracks,  and  told 
the  Tongan  to  swim  softly  around  and  have  talk 
with  the  Kanakas.  In  two  hours  Jackie-Jackie 
was  back.  He  shook  his  head  as  he  stood  drip 
ping  before  Grief. 

"Very  funny  t'ing,"  he  reported.  "One 
white  man  stop  all  the  time.  He  has  big  rifle. 
He  lay  in  water  and  watch.  Maybe  twelve 
o'clock,  other  white  man  come  and  take  rifle. 
First  white  man  go  to  bed.  Other  man  stop 
now  with  rifle.  No  good.  Me  cannot  talk 
with  Kanakas.  Me  come  back." 

"By  George!"  Grief  said  to  Snow,  after  the 
Tongan  had  gone  back  to  his  bunk.  "I  smell 
something  more  than  shell.  Those  three  men 
are  standing  watches  over  their  Kanakas. 
That  man's  no  more  Swithin  Hall  than  I  am." 

Snow  whistled  from  the  impact  of  a  new  idea. 

"Fve  got  it!"  he  cried. 

"And  I'll  name   it,"   Grief  retorted.     "It's 


194  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

in  your  mind  that  the  Emily  L.  was  their 
schooner?" 

"Just  that.  They're  raising  and  rotting  the 
shell,  while  she's  gone  for  more  divers,  or  pro 
visions,  or  both." 

"And  I  agree  with  you."  Grief  glanced  at  the 
cabin  clock  and  evinced  signs  of  bed-going. 
"He's  a  sailor.  The  three  of  them  are.  But 
they're  not  island  men.  They're  new  in  these 
waters." 

Again  Snow  whistled. 

"And  the  Emily  L.  is  lost  with  all  hands,"  he 
said.  "We  know  that.  They're  marooned  here 
till  Swithin  Hall  comes.  Then  he'll  catch  them 
with  all  the  shell." 

"Or  they'll  take  possession  of  his  schooner." 

"Hope  tHey  do!"  Snow  muttered  vindic 
tively.  "Somebody  ought  to  rob  him.  Wist 
I  was  in  their  boots.  I'd  balance  off  that  sixty 

thousand." 

VII 

A  week  passed,  during  which  time  the  Uncle 
Toby  was  ready  for  sea,  while  Grief  managed  to 
allay  any  suspicion  of  him  by  the  shore  crowd. 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWTFHIN  HALL    195 

Even  Gorman  and  Watson  accepted  him  at 
his  self -description.  Throughout  the  week  Grief 
begged  and  badgered  them  for  the  longitude  of 
the  island. 

"You  wouldn't  have  me  leave  here  lost,"  he 
finally  urged.  "I  can't  get  a  line  on  my  chro 
nometer  without  your  longitude." 

Hall  laughingly  refused. 

"You're  too  good  a  navigator,  Mr.  Anstey, 
not  to  fetch  New  Guinea  or  some  other  high 
land." 

"And  you're  too  good  a  navigator,  Mr.  Hall," 
Grief  replied,  "not  to  know  that  I  can  fetch 
your  island  any  time  by  running  down  its  lati 
tude." 

On  the  last  evening,  ashore,  as  usual,  to  din 
ner,  Grief  got  his  first  view  of  the  pearls  they  had 
collected.  Mrs.  Hall,  waxing  enthusiastic,  had 
asked  her  husband  to  bring  forth  the  "pretties," 
and  hacUspent  half  an  hour  showing  them  to 
Grief.  His  delight  in  them  was  genuine,  as 
well  as  was  his  surprise  that  they  had  made  so 
rich  a  haul. 

"The  lagoon  is  virgin,"  Hall  explained.   "  You 


196  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

saw  yourself  that  most  of  the  shell  is  large  and 
old.  But  it's  funny  that  we  got  most  of  the 
valuable  pearls  in  one  small  patch  in  the 
course  of  a  week.  It  was  a  little  treasure  house. 
Every  oyster  seemed  filled  —  seed  pearls  by  the 
quart,  of  course,  but  the  perfect  ones,  most  of 
that  bunch  there,  came  out  of  the  small  patch." 

Grief  ran  his  eye  over  them  and  knew  their 
value  ranged  from  one  hundred  to  a  thousand 
dollars  each,  while  the  several  selected  large  ones 
went  far  beyond. 

"Oh,  the  pretties!  the  pretties!"  Mrs.  Hall 
cried,  bending  forward  suddenly  and  kissing  them. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  arose  to  say  good-night. 

"It's  good-bye,"  Grief  said,  as  he  took  her 
hand.  "We  sail  at  daylight." 

"So  suddenly!"  she  cried,  while  Grief  could 
not  help  seeing  the  quick  light  of  satisfaction  in 
her  husband's  eyes. 

;'Yes,"  Grief  continued.  "All  the  repairs 
are  finished.  I  can't  get  the  longitude  of  your 
island  out  of  your  husband,  though  I'm  still  in 
hopes  he'll  relent." 

Hall  laughed  and  shook  his  head,  and,  as  his 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL    197 

wife  left  the  room,  proposed  a  last  farewell 
nightcap.  They  sat  over  it,  smoking  and  talk 
ing. 

"What  do  you  estimate  they're  worth?" 
Grief  asked,  indicating  the  spread  of  pearls  on 
the  table.  "I  mean  what  the  pearl-buyers  would 
give  you  in  open  market?" 

"Oh,  seventy-five  or  eighty  thousand,"  Hall 
said  carelessly.  * 

"I'm  afraid  you're  underestimating.  I  know 
pearls  a  bit.  Take  that  biggest  one.  It's  per 
fect.  Not  a  cent  less  than  five  thousand  dollars. 
Some  multimillionaire  will  pay  double  that  some 
day,  when  the  dealers  have  taken  their  whack. 
And  never  minding  the  seed  pearls,  you've  got 
quarts  of  baroques  there.*  And  baroques  are 
coming  into  fashion.  They're  picking  up  and 
doubling  on  themselves  every  year." 

Hall  gave  the  trove  of  pearls  a  closer  and 
longer  scrutiny,  estimating  the  different  parcels 
and  adding  the  sum  aloud. 

"You're  right,"  he  admitted.  "They're  worth 
a  hundred  thousand  right  now." 

"And  at  what  do  you  figure  your  working 


198  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

expenses?"  Grief  went  on.  "Your  time,  and 
your  two  men's,  and  the  divers'?" 

"Five  thousand  would  cover  it." 

"Then  they  stand  to  net  you  ninety -five 
thousand?" 

"Something  like  that.  But  why  so  curi 
ous?" 

"Why,I  was  just  trying "  Grief  paused  and 

drained  his  glass.  "  Just  trying  to  reach  some  sort 
of  an  equitable  arrangement.  Suppose  I  should 
give  you  and  your  people  a  passage  to  Sydney  and 
the  five  thousand  dollars  —  or,  better,  seven 
thousand  five  hundred.  You've  worked  hard." 

Without  commotion  or  muscular  movement  the 
other  man  became  alert  and  tense.  His  round- 
faced  geniality  went  out  like  the  flame  of  a  snuffed 
candle.  No  laughter  clouded  the  surface  of  the 
eyes,  and  in  their  depths  showed  the  hard,  danger 
ous  soul  of  the  man.  He  spoke  in  a  low,  deliberate 
voice. 

"  Now  just  what  in  hell  do  you  mean  by  that? " 

Grief  casually  relighted  his  cigar. 

"I  don't  know  just  how  to  begin,"  he  said. 
"The  situation  is  —  er  —  is  embarrassing 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL      199 

for  you.  You  see,  I'm  trying  to  be  fair.  As  I 
say,  you've  worked  hard.  I  don't  want  to 
confiscate  the  pearls.  I  want  to  pay  you  for 
your  time  and  trouble,  and  expense." 

Conviction,  instantaneous  and  absolute,  froze 
on  the  other's  face. 

"And  I  thought  you  were  in  Europe,"  he  mut 
tered.  Hope  flickered  for  a  moment.  "Look  here, 
you're  joking  me.  How  do  I  know  you're  Swithin 
Hall?" 

Grief  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Such  a  joke 
would  be  in  poor  taste,  after  your  hospitality. 
And  it  is  equally  in  poor  taste  to  have  two 
Swithin  Halls  on  the  island." 

"Since  you're  Swithin  Hall,  then  who  the 
deuce  am  I?  Do  you  know  that,  too?" 

"No,"  Grief  answered  airily.  "But  I'd  like 
to  know." 

"Well,  it's  none  of  your  business." 

"I  grant  it.  Your  identity  is  beside  the  point. 
Besides,  I  know  your  schooner,  and  I  can  find 
out  who  you  are  from  that." 

"What's  her  name?" 

"The  Emily  L. 


200  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Correct.  I'm  Captain  Raffy,  owner  and 
master." 

"The  seal-poacher?  I've  heard  of  you.  What 
under  the  sun  brought  you  down  here  on  my 
preserves?" 

"  Needed  the  money.  The  seal  herds  are  about 
finished." 

"And  the  out-of-the-way  places  of  the  world 
are  better  policed,  eh?" 

"Pretty  close  to  it.  And  now  about  this 
present  scrape,  Mr.  Hall.  I  can  put  up  a  nasty 
fight.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"  What  I  said.  Even  better.  What's  the  Em- 
ily  L.  worth?" 

"She's  seen  her  day.  Not  above  ten  thou 
sand,  which  would  be  robbery.  Every  time  she's 
in  a  rough  sea  I'm  afraid  she'll  jump  her  bal 
last  through  her  planking." 

"She  has  jumped  it,  Captain  Raffy.  I 
sighted  her  bottom-up  after  the  blow.  Suppose 
we  say  she  was  worth  seven  thousand  five 
hundred.  I'll  pay  over  to  you  fifteen  thousand 
and  give  you  a  passage.  Don't  move  your 
hands  from  your  lap."  Grief  stood  up,  went 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       201 

over  to  him,  and  took  his  revolver.  "Just  a 
necessary  precaution,  Captain.  .Now  3rou'll  go 
on  board  with  me.  I'll  break  the  news  to  Mrs. 
Raffy  afterward,  and  fetch  her  out  to  join  you." 

"You're  behaving  handsomely,  Mr.  Hall,  I 
must  say,"  Captain  Raffy  volunteered,  as  the 
whaleboat  came  alongside  the  Uncle  Toby.  "  But 
watch  out  for  Gorman  and  Watson.  They're 
ugly  Customers.  And,  by  the  way,  I  don't  like 
to  mention  it,  but  you've  seen  my  wife.  I've 
given  her  four  or  five  pearls.  Watson  and 
Gorman  were  willing." 

"Say  no  more,  Captain.  Say  no  more.  They 
shall  remain  hers.  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Snow? 
Here's  a  friend  I  want  you  to  take  charge  of  — 
Captain  Raffy.  I'm  going  ashore  for  his  wife." 

VIII 

David  Grief  sat  writing  at  the  library  table 
in  the  bungalow  living-room.  Outside,  the 
first  pale  of  dawn  was  showing.  He  had  had  a 
busy  night.  Mrs.  Raffy  had  taken  two  hys 
terical  hours  to  pack  her  and  Captain  Raffy's 
possessions.  Gorman  had  been  caught  asleep, 


202  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

but  Watson,  standing  guard  over  the  divers,  had 
shown  fight.  Matters  did  not  reach  the  shoot 
ing  stage,  but  it  was  only  after  it  had  been  dem 
onstrated  to  him  that  the  game  was  up  that  he 
consented  to  join  his  companions  on  board. 
For  temporary  convenience,  he  and  Gorman 
were  shackled  in  the  mate's  room,  Mrs.  Raffy 
was  confined  in  Grief's,  and  Captain  Raffy 
made  fast  to  the  cabin  table. 

Grief  finished  the  document  and  read  over 
what  he  had  written: 

To    Swithin    Hall,    for    pearls    taken 

from  his  lagoon  (estimated)      .  $100,000 

To  Herbert  Snow,  paid  in  fulj-  for 
salvage  from  steamship  Cascade 
in  pearls  (estimated)  .  .  .  $60,000 

To  Captain  Raffy,  salary  ani  ex 
penses  for  collecting  pearls  .  7,500 

To   Captain   Raffy,    reimbursement 
for    schooner    Emily   L.9    lost    in 
hurricane 7,500 

To  Mrs.  Raffy,  for  good  will,  five  fair 

pearls  (estimated)     .      .      .      .         1,100 

To  passage  to  Syndey,  four  persons, 

at  $120.  ....  480 


ACCOUNT  WITH  SWITHIN  HALL       203 

To   white   lead   for   painting   Swithin 

Hall's  two  whaleboats    ...  9 

To   Swithin   Hall,   balance,   in   pearls 
(estimated)  which  are  to  be  found 
in  drawer  of  library  table      .      .       23,411 


$100,000  — $100,000 

Grief  signed  and  dated,  paused,  and  added 
at  the  bottom: 

P.  S. —  Still  owing  to  Swithin  Hall  three  books,  borrowed 
from  library:  Hudson* s  "Law  of  Psychic  Phenomena," 
Zola's  "Paris,"  and  Mohan's  "Problem  of  Asia"  These 
books,  or  full  volume,  can  be  collected  of  said  David  Griefs 
Sydney  office. 

He  shut  off  the  electric  light,  picked  up  the 
bundle  of  books,  carefully  latched  the  front 
door,  and  went  down  to  the  waiting  whaleboat. 


Chapter  Six 
A  GOBOTO  NIGHT 


At  Goboto  the  traders  come  off  their  schooners 
and  the  planters  drift  in  from  far,  wild  coasts, 
and  one  and  all  they  assume  shoes,  white  duck 
trousers,  and  various  other  appearances  of 
civilization.  At  Goboto  mail  is  received,  bills 
are  paid,  and  newspapers,  rarely  more  than 
five  weeks  old,  are  accessible;  for  the  little  island, 
belted  with  its  coral  reefs,  affords  safe  anchorage, 
is  the  steamer  port  of  call,  and  serves  as  the 
distributing  point  for  the  whole  wide-scattered 
group. 

Life  at  Goboto  is  heated,  unhealthy,  and  lurid, 
and  for  its  size  it  asserts  the  distinction  of  more 
cases  of  acute  alcoholism  than  any  other  spot 
in  the  world.  Guvutu,  over  in  the  Solomons, 
claims  that  it  drinks  between  drinks.  Goboto 

204 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  205 

does  not  deny  this.  It  merely  states,  in  passing, 
that  in  the  Goboton  chronology  n-o  such- interval 
of  time  is  known.  It  also  points  out  its  import 
statistics,  which  show  a  far  larger  pec  capita 
consumption  of  spiritous  liquors.  Guvutu  ex 
plains  this  on  the  basis  that  Goboto  does  a  larger 
business  and  has  more  visitors.  Goboto  retorts 
that  its  resident  population  is  smaller  and  that 
its  visitors  are  thirstier.  And  the  discussion  goes 
on  interminably,  principally  because  of  the  fact 
that  the  disputants  do  not  live  long  enough  to 
settle  it. 

Goboto  is  not  large.  The  island  is  only  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  on  it  are  sit 
uated  an  admiralty  coal-shed  (where  a  few  tons 
of  coal  have  lain  untouched  for  twenty  years), 
the  barracks  for  a  handful  of  black  labourers, 
a  big  store  and  warehouse  with  sheet-iron  roofs, 
and  a  bungalow  inhabited  by  the  manager  and 
his  two  clerks.  They  are  the  white  population. 
An  average  of  one  man  out  of  the  three  is  always 
to  be  found  down  with  fever.  The  job  at  Gobo 
to  is  a  hard  one.  It  is  the  policy  of  the  company 
to  treat  its  patrons  well,  as  invading  companies 


206  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

have  found  out,  and  it  is  the  task  of  the  manager 
and  clerks  to  do  the  treating.  Throughout  the 
year  traders  and  recruiters  arrive  from  far,  dry 
cruises,  and  planters  from  equally  distant  and 
*dry  shores,  bringing  with  them  magnificent 
thirsts.  Goboto  is  the  mecca  of  sprees,  and 
when  they  have  spread  they  go  back  to  their 
schooners  and  plantations  to  recuperate. 

Some  of  the  less  hardy  require  as  much  as  six 
months  between  visits.  But  for  the  manager 
and  his  assistants  there  are  no  such  intervals. 
They  are  on  the  spot,  and  week  by  week,  blown 
in  by  monsoon  or  southeast  trade,  the  schooners 
come  to  anchor,  cargo'd  with  copra,  ivory  nuts, 
pearl-shell,  hawksbill  turtle,  and  thirst. 

It  is  a  very  hard  job  at  Goboto.  That  is 
why  the  pay  is  twice  that  on  other  stations,  and 
that  is  why  the  company  selects  only  courageous 
and  intrepid  men  for  this  particular  station. 
They  last  no  more  than  a  year  or  so,  when  the 
wreckage  of  them  is  shipped  back  to  Australia, 
or  the  remains  of  them  are  buried  in  the  sand 
across  on  the  windward  side  of  the  islet.  Johnny 
Bassett,  almost  the  legendary  hero  of  Goboto, 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  207 

broke  all  records.  He  was  a  remittance  man 
with  a  remarkable  constitution, .and  he  lasted 
seven  years.  His  dying  request  was  duly  ob 
served  by  his  clerks,  who  pickled  him  in  a  cask 
of  trade-rum  (paid  for  out  of  their  own  salaries)  < 
and  shipped  him  back  to  his  people  in  England. 
Nevertheless,  at  Goboto,  they  tried  to  be 
gentlemen.  For  that  matter,  though  some 
thing  was  wrong  with  them,  they  were  gentle 
men,  and  had  been  gentlemen.  That  was  why 
the  great  unwritten  rule  of  Goboto  was  that 
visitors  should  put  on  pants  and  shoes.  Breech- 
clouts,  lava-lavas,  and  bare  legs  were  not  tol 
erated.  When  Captain  Jensen,  the  wildest  of 
the  Blackbirders  though  descended  from  old 
New  York  Knickerbocker  stock,  surged  in,  clad 
in  loin-cloth,  undershirt,  two  belted  revolvers 
and  a  sheath -knife,  he  was  stopped  at  the  beach. 
This  was  in  the  days  of  Johnny  Bassett,  ever  a 
stickler  in  matters  of  etiquette.  Captain  Jensen 
stood  up  in  the  sternsheets  of  his  whaleboat  and 
denied  the  existence  of  pants  on  his  schooner. 
Also,  he  affirmed  his  intention  of  coming  ashore. 
They  of  Goboto  nursed  him  back  to  health  from 


208  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

a  bullet-hole  through  his  shoulder,  and  in  addi 
tion  hamls^meiy  begged  his  pardon,  for  no  pants 
had  they  found  on  his  schooner.  And  finally, 
on  the  first  day  he  sat  up,  Johnny  Bassett  kindly 
but  firmly  assisted  his  guest  into  a  pair  of  pants 
of  his  own.  This  was  the  great  precedent.  In 
all  the  succeeding  years  it  had  never  been 
violated.  White  men  and  pants  were  undivorce- 
able.  Only  niggers  ran  naked.  Pants  consti 
tuted  caste. 

II 

On  this  night  things  were,  with  one  exception, 
in  nowise  different  from  any  other  night.  Seven 
of  them,  with  glimmering  eyes  and  steady  legs, 
had  capped  a  day  of  Scotch  with  swivel-sticked 
cocktails  and  sat  down  to  dinner.  Jacketed, 
trousered,  and  shod,  they  were:  Jerry  McMurt- 
rey,the  manager;  Eddy  Little  and  Jack  Andrews, 
clerks;  Captain  Stapler,  of  the  recruiting  ketch 
Merry,  Darby  Shryleton,  planter  from  Tito-Ito; 
Peter  Gee,  a  half-caste  Chinese  pearl-buyer  who 
ranged  from  Ceylon  to  the  Paumotus,  and  Al 
fred  Deacon,  a  visitor  who  had  stopped  off  from 
the  last  steamer.  At  first  wine  was  served 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  200 

by  the  black  servants  to  those  that  drank 
it,  though  all  quickly  shifted  back  to  Scotch 
and  soda,  pickling  their  food  as  they  ate 
it,  ere  it  went  into  their  calcined,  pickled 
stomachs. 

Over  their  coffee,  they  heard  the  rumble  of 
an  anchor-chain  through  a  hawse-pipe,  tokening 
the  arrival  of  a  vessel. 

"It's  David  Grief,"  Peter  Gee  remarked. 

"How  do  you  know?"  Deacon  demanded 
truculently,  and  then  went  on  to  deny  the  half- 
caste's  knowledge.  "You  chaps  put  on  a  lot 
of  side  over  a  new  chum.  I've  done  some  sail 
ing  myself,  and  this  naming  a  craft  when  its 
sail  is  only  a  blur,  or  naming  a  man  by  the  sound 
of  his  anchor  —  it's  —  it's  unadulterated  poppy 
cock." 

Peter  Gee  was  engaged  in  lighting  a  cigarette, 
and  did  not  answer. 

"Some  of  the  niggers  do  amazing  things  that 
way,"  McMurtrey  interposed  tactfully. 

As  with  the  others,  this  conduct  of  their  visitor 
jarred  on  the  manager.  From  the  moment  of 
Peter  Gee's  arrival  that  afternoon  Deacon  had 


210  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

manifested  a  tendency  to  pick  on  him.  He  had 
disputed  his  statements  and  been  generally 
rude. 

"Maybe  it's  because  Peter's  got  Chink  blood 
in  him,"  had  been  Andrews'  hypothesis.  "  Dea 
con's  Australian,  you  know,  and  they're  daffy 
down  there  on  colour." 

"I  fancy  that's  it,"  McMurtrey  had  agreed. 
"But  we  can't  permit  any  bullying,  especially 
of  a  man  like  Peter  Gee,  who's  whiter  than  most 
white  men." 

In  this  the  manager  had  been  in  nowise 
wrong.  Peter  Gee  was  that  rare  creature,  a 
good  as  well  as  clever  Eurasian.  In  fact,  it 
was  the  stolid  integrity  of  the  Chinese  blood  that 
toned  the  recklessness  and  licentiousness  of  the 
English  blood  which  had  run  in  his  father's  veins. 
Also,  he  was  better  educated  than  any  man  there, 
spoke  better  English  as  well  as  several  other 
tongues,  and  knew  and  lived  more  of  their  own 
ideals  of  gentlemanness  than  they  did  them 
selves.  And,  finally,  he  was  a  gentle  soul. 
Violence  he  deprecated,  though  he  had  killed  f -•; 
men  in  his  time.  Turbulence  he  abhorred. 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  211 

He  always  avoided  it  as  he  would  the 
plague. 

Captain  Stapler  stepped  in  to  help  McMurt- 
rey: 

"I  remember,  when  I  changed  schooners  and 
came  into  Altman,  the  niggers  knew  right  off 
the  bat  it  was  me.  I  wasn't  expected,  either, 
much  less  to  be  in  another  craft.  They  told  the 
trader  it  was  me.  He  used  the  glasses,  and 
wouldn't  believe  them.  But  they  did  know. 
Told  me  afterward  they  could  see  it  sticking  out 
all  over  the  schooner  that  I  was  running  her." 

Deacon  ignored  him,  and  returned  to  the 
attack  on  the  pearl-buyer. 

"How  do  you  know  from  the  sound  of  the 
anchor  that  it  was  this  whatever-you-called-him 
man?"  he  challenged. 

"There  are  so  many  things  that  go  to  make 
up  such  a  judgment,"  Peter  Gee  answered.  "It's 
very  hard  to  explain.  It  would  require  almost 
a  text  book." 

"I  thought  so,"  Deacon  sneered.  "Explana 
tion  that  doesn't  explain  is  easy." 

"Who's  for  bridge?"  Eddy  Little,  the  second 


-A 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

clerk,  interrupted,  looking  up  expectantly  and 
starting  to  shuffle.  "You'll  play,  won't  you, 
Peter?" 

"If  he  does,  he's  a  bluffer,"  Deacon  cut  back. 
"I'm  getting  tired  of  all  this  poppycock.  Mr. 
Gee,  you  will  favour  me  and  put  yourself  in  a 
better  light  if  you  tell  how  you  know  who  that 
man  was  that  just  dropped  anchor.  After  that 
I'll  play  you  piquet." 

"I'd  prefer  bridge,"  Peter  answered.  "As 
for  the  other  thing,  it's  something  like  this  :  By 
the  sound  it  was  a  small  craft  —  no  square- 
rigger.  No  whistle,  no  siren,  was  blown  —  again 
a  small  craft.  It  anchored  close  in  —  still  again 
a  small  craft,  for  steamers  and  big  ships  must 
drop  hook  outside  the  middle  shoal.  Now  the 
entrance  is  tortuous.  There  is  no  recruiting 
nor  trading  captain  in  the  group  who  dares 
to  run  the  passage  after  dark.  Certainly  no 
stranger  would.  There  were  two  exceptions. 
The  first  was  Margonville.  But  he  was  exe 
cuted  by  the  High  Court  at  Fiji.  Remains  the 
other  exception,  David  Grief.  Night  or  day, 
in  any  weather,  he  runs  the  passage.  This  is 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  218 

well  known  to  all.  A  possible  factor,  in  case 
Grief  were  somewhere  else,  would  be  some  young 
dare-devil  of  a  skipper.  In  this  connection,  in 
the  first  place,  I  don't  know  of  any,  nor  does 
anybody  else.  In  the  second  place,  David  Grief 
is  in  these  waters,  cruising  on  the  Gunga,  which 
is  shortly  scheduled  to  leave  here  for  Karo-Karo. 
I  spoke  to  Grief,  on  the  Gunga,  in  Sandfly  Pas 
sage,  day  before  yesterday.  He  was  putting  a 
trader  ashore  on  a  new  station.  He  said  he  was 
going  to  call  in  at  Babo,  and  then  come  on  to 
Goboto.  He  has  had  ample  time  to  get  here.  I 
have  heard  an  anchor  drop.  Who  else  than 
David  Grief  can  it  be?  Captain  Donovan  is 
skipper  of  the  Gunga,  and  him  I  know  too  well 
to  believe  that  he'd  run  in  to  Goboto  after  dark 
unless  his  owner  were  in  charge.  In  a  few 
minutes  David  Grief  will  enter  through  that 
door  and  say,  'In  Guvutu  they  merely  drink 
between  drinks.'  I'll  wager  fifty  pounds  he's 
the  man  that  enters  and  that  his  words  will  be, 
*  In  Guvutu  they  merely  drink  between  drinks. ' ' 
Deacon  was  for  the  moment  crushed.  The 
sullen  blood  rose  darkly  iri  his  face. 


214  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Well,  he's  answered  you,"  McMurtrey 
laughed  genially.  "And  I'll  back  his  bet  my 
self  for  a  couple  of  sovereigns." 

"Bridge!  Who's  going  to  take  a  hand?" 
Eddy  Little  cried  impatiently.  "Come  on, 
Peter!" 

"The  rest  of  you  play,"  Deacon  said.  "He 
and  I  are  going  to  play  piquet." 

"I'd  prefer  bridge,"  Peter  Gee  said  mildly. 

"Don't  you  play  piquet?" 

The  pearl-buyer  nodded. 

"Then  come  on.  Maybe  I  can  show  I  know 
more  about  that  than  I  do  about  anchors." 

"Oh,  I  say '  McMurtrey  began. 

'You  can  play  bridge,"  Deacon  shut  him  off. 
"We  prefer  piquet." 

Reluctantly,  Peter  Gee  was  bullied  into  a 
game  that  he  knew  would  be  unhappy. 

"Only  a  rubber,"  he  said,  as  he  cut  for  deal. 

"For  how  much?"  Deacon  asked. 

Peter  Gee  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "As  you 
please." 

"Hundred  up  —  five  pounds  a  game?" 

Peter  Gee  agreed. 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  215 

"With  the  lurch  double,  of  course,  ten 
pounds?" 

"All  right,"  said  Peter  Gee. 

At  another  table  four  of  the  others  sat  in  at 
bridge.  Captain  Stapler,  who  was  no  card- 
player,  looked  on  and  replenished  the  long 
glasses  of  Scotch  that  stood  at  each  man's  right 
hand.  McMurtrey,  with  poorly  concealed  ap 
prehension,  followed  as  well  as  he  could  what 
went  on  at  the  piquet  table.  His  fellow  English 
men  as  well  were  shocked  by  the  behaviour  of 
the  Australian,  and  all  were  troubled  by  fear  of 
some  untoward  act  on  his  part.  That  he  was 
working  up  his  animosity  against  the  half-caste, 
and  that  the  explosion  might  come  any  time, 
was  apparent  to  all. 

"I  hope  Peter  loses,"  McMurtrey  said  in  an 
undertone. 

"Not  if  he  has  any  luck,"  Andrews  answered. 
"He's  a  wizard  at  piquet.  I  know  by  experi 


ence." 


That  Peter  Gee  was  lucky  was  patent  from  the 
continual  badgering  of  Deacon,  who  filled  his 
glass  frequently.  He  had  lost  the  first  game, 


*16  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and,  from  his  remarks,  was  losing  the  second, 
when  the  door  opened  and  David  Grief  entered. 

44  In  Guvutu  they  merely  drink  between 
drinks,"  he  remarked  casually  to  the  assembled 
company,  ere  he  gripped  the  manager's  hand. 
" Hello,  Mac!  Say,  my  skipper's  down  in  the 
whaleboat.  He's  got  a  silk  shirt,  a  tie,  and  ten 
nis  shoes,  all  complete,  but  he  wants  you  to  send 
a  pair  of  pants  down.  Mine  are  too  small,  but 
yours  will  fit  him.  Hello,  Eddy!  How's  that 
ngari-ngari?  You  up,  Jock?  The  miracle  has 
happened.  No  one  down  with  fever,  and  no  one 
remarkably  drunk."  He  sighed,  "I  suppose  the 
night  is  young  yet.  Hello,  Peter!  Did  you 
catch  that  big  squall  an  hour  after  you  left  us? 
We  had  to  let  go  the  second  anchor." 

While  he  was  being  introduced  to  Deacon, 
McMurtrey  dispatched  a  house-boy  with  the 
pants,  and  when  Captain  Donovan  came  in  it 
was  as  a  white  man  should  —  at  least  in  Go- 
boto. 

Deacon  lost  the  second  game,  and  an  outburst- 
heralded  the  fact.  Peter  Gee  devoted  himself 
to  lighting  a  cigarette  and  keeping  quiet. 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  217 

"What?  —  are  you  quitting  because  you're 
ahead?"  Deacon  demanded. 

Grief  raised  his  eyebrows  questioningly  to 
McMurtrey,  who  frowned  back  his  own  disgust. 

"It's  the  rubber,"  Peter  Gee  answered. 

"It  takes  three  games  to  make  a  rubber.  It's 
my  deal.  Come  on!" 

Peter  Gee  acquiesced,  and  the  third  game  was 
on. 

"Young  whelp  —  he  needs  a  lacing,"  Mc 
Murtrey  muttered  to  Grief.  "Come  on,  let  us 
quit,  you  chaps.  I  want  to  keep  an  eye  on  him. 
If  he  goes  too  far  I'll  throw  him  out  on  the  beach, 
company  instructions  or  no." 

"Who  is  he?"  Grief  queried. 

"A  left-over  from  last  steamer.  Company's 
orders  to  treat  him  nice.  He's  looking  to  in 
vest  in  a  plantation.  Has  a  ten-thousand- 
pound  letter  of  credit  with  the  company.  He's 
got  'all- white  Australia'  on  the  brain.  Thinks 
because  his  skin  is  white  and  because  his  father 
was  once  Attorney-General  of  the  Common 
wealth  that  he  can  be  a  cur.  That's  why  he's 
picking  on  Peter,  and  you  know  Peter's  the  last 


218  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

man  in  the  world  to  make  trouble  or  incur 
trouble.  Damn  the  company.  I  didn't  engage 
to  wet-nurse  its  infants  with  bank  accounts. 
Come  on,  fill  your  glass,  Grief.  The  man's  a 
blighter,  a  blithering  blighter." 

"Maybe  he!s  only  young,"  Grief  suggested. 

"He  can't  contain  his  drink  —  that's  clear." 
The  manager  glared  his  disgust  and  wrath.  "If 
Jie  raises  a  hand  to  Peter,  so  help  me,  I'll  give 
him  a  licking  myself,  the  little  overgrown  cad!" 

The  pearl-buyer  pulled  the  pegs  out  of  the 
cribbage  board  on  which  he  was  scoring  and  sat 
back.  He  had  won  the  third  game.  He  glanced 
across  to  Eddy  Little,  saying: 

"I'm  ready  for  the  bridge,  now." 

"I  wouldn't  be  a  quitter,"  Deacon  snarled. 

"Oh,  really,  I'm  tired  of  the  game,"  Peter 
Gee  assured  him  with  his  habitual  quietness. 

"Come  on  and  be  game,"  Deacon  bullied. 
<cOne  more.  You  can't  take  my  money  that 
way.  I'm  out  fifteen  pounds.  Double  or  quits." 

McMurtrey  was  about  to  interpose,  but  Grief 
restrained  him  with  his  eyes. 

"If  it  positively  is  the  last,  all  right,"  said 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  219 

Peter  Gee,  gathering  up  the  cards.  "It's  my 
deal,  I  believe.  As  I  understand  it,  this  final 
is  for  fifteen  pounds.  Either  you  owe  me  thirty 
or  we  quit  even?" 

"That's  it,  chappie.  Either  we  break  even  or 
I  pay  you  thirty." 

"Getting  blooded,  eh?"  Grief  remarked,  draw 
ing  up  a  chair. 

The  other  men  stood  or  sat  around  the  table, 
and  Deacon  played  again  in  bad  luck.  That 
he  was  a  good  player  was  clear.  The  cards  were 
merely  running  against  him.  That  he  could 
not  take  his  ill  luck  with  equanimity  was  equally 
clear.  He  was  guilty  of  sharp,  ugly  curses,  and 
he  snapped  and  growled  at  the  imperturbable 
half-caste.  In  the  end  Peter  Gee  counted  out, 
while  Deacon  had  not  even  made  his  fifty 
points.  He  glowered  speechlessly  at  his  oppo 
nent. 

"Looks  like  a  lurch,"  said  Grief. 

"Which  is  double,"  said  Peter  Gee. 

"There's  no  need  your  telling  me,"  Deacon 
snarled.  "I've  studied  arithmetic.  I  owe  you 
forty-five  pounds.  There,  take  it!" 


220  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

The  way  in  which  he  flung  the  nine  five-pound 
notes  on  the  table  was  an  insult  in  itself.  Peter 
Gee  was  even  quieter,  and  flew  no  signals  of  re 
sentment. 

"You've  got  fool's  luck,  but  you  can't  play 
cards,  I  can  tell  you  that  much,"  Deacon  went 
on.  "I  could  teach  you  cards." 

The  half-caste  smiled  and  nodded  acquies 
cence  as  he  folded  up  the  money. 

"There's  a  little  game  called  casino — I  wonder 
if  you  ever  heard  of  it?  —  a  child's  game." 

"I've  seen  it  played,"  the  half-caste  mur 
mured  gently. 

"What's  that?"  snapped  Deacon.  "Maybe 
you  think  you  can  play  it?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  for  a  moment.  I'm  afraid  I 
haven't  head  enough  for  it." 

"It's  a  bully  game,  casino,"  Grief  broke  in 
pleasantly.  "I  like  it  very  much." 

Deacon  ignored  him. 

"I'll  play  you  ten  quid  a  game  —  thirty-one 
points  out,"  was  the  challenge  to  Peter  Gee. 
"And  I'll  show  you  how  little  you  know  about 
cards.  Come  on!  Where's  a  full  deck?" 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT 

"No,  thanks,"  the  half-caste  answered. 
"They  are  waiting  for  me  in  order  to  make  up 
a  bridge  set." 

"Yes,  come  on,"  Eddy  Little  begged  eagerly. 
"Come  on,  Peter,  let's  get  started." 

"Afraid  of  a  little  game  like  casino,"  Deacon 
girded.  "Maybe  the  stakes  are  too  high.  I'll 
play  you  for  pennies  —  or  farthings,  if  you  say 


so." 


The  man's  conduct  was  a  hurt  and  an  affront 

to  all  of  them.     McMurtrey  could  stand  it  no 

longer. 

"Now  hold  on,  Deacon.     He  says  he  doesn't 

want  to  play.     Let  him  alone." 
Deacon   turned   raging   upon   his   host;   but 

before  he  could  blurt  out  his  abuse,  Grief  had 

stepped  into  the  breach. 

"I'd  like  to  play  casino  with  you,"  he  said. 
"What  do  you  know  about  it?" 
"Not  much,  but  I'm  willing  to  learn." 
"Well,  I'm  not  teaching  for  pennies  to-night." 
"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Grief  answered.     "I'll 

play  for  almost  any  sum  —  within  reason,  of 


course." 


222  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Deacon  proceeded  to  dispose  of  this  intruder 
with  one  stroke. 

"I'll  play  you  a  hundred  pounds  a  game,  if 
that  will  do  you  any  good." 

Grief  beamed  his  delight.  "That  will  be  all 
right,  very  right.  Let  us  begin.  Do  you  count 
sweeps?" 

Deacon  was  taken  aback.  He  had  not  ex 
pected  a  Goboton  trader  to  be  anything  but 
crushed  by  such  a  proposition. 

"Do  you  count  sweeps?"  Grief  re 
peated. 

Andrews  had  brought  him  a  new  deck,  and 
he  was  throwing  out  the  joker. 

"Certainly  not,"  Deacon  answered.  "That's 
a  sissy  game." 

"I'm  glad,"  Grief  coincided.  "I  don't  like 
sissy  games  either." 

"You  don't,  eh?  Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do.  We'll  play  for  five  hundred  pounds 
a  game." 

Again  Deacon  was  taken  aback. 

"I'm  agreeable,"  Grief  said,  beginning  to 
shuffle.  "Cards  and  spades  go  out  first,  of 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  223 

course,  and  then  big  and  little  casino,  and  the 
aces  in  the  bridge  order  of  value.  Is  that 
right?" 

"You're  a  lot  of  jokers  down  here,"  Deacon 
laughed,  but  his  laughter  was  strained.  "How 
do  I  know  you've  got  the  money?" 

"By  the  same  token  I  know  you've  got  it. 
Mac,  how's  my  credit  with  the  company?" 

"For  all  you  want,"  the  manager  answered. 

''  You  personally  guarantee  that?"  Deacon  de 
manded. 

"  I  certainly  do,"  McMurtrey  said.  "  Depend 
upon  it,  the  company  will  honour  his  paper  up 
and  past  your  letter  of  credit." 

"Low  deals,"  Grief  said,  placing  the  deck 
before  Deacon  on  the  table. 

The  latter  hesitated  in  the  midst  of  the  cut 
and  looked  around  with  querulous  misgiving  at 
the  faces  of  the  others.  The  clerks  and  captains 
nodded. 

'6  You're  all  strangers  to  me,"  Deacon  com 
plained.  "How  am  I  to  know?  Money  on 
paper  isn't  always  the  real  thing." 

Then  it  was  that  Peter  Gee,  drawing  a  wallet 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

from  his  pocket  and  borrowing  a  fountain  pen 
from  McMurtrey,  went  into  action. 

"I  haven't  gone  to  buying  yet,"  the  half-caste 
explained,  "so  the  account  is  intact.  I'll  just 
indorse  it  over  to  you,  Grief.  It's  for  fifteen 
thousand.  There,  look  at  it." 

Deacon  intercepted  the  letter  of  credit  as  it 
was  being  passed  across  the  table.  He  read  it 
slowly,  then  glanced  up  at  McMurtrey. 

"Is  that  right?" 

:<Yes.  It's  just  the  same  as  your  own,  and 
just  as  good.  The  company's  paper  is  always 
good." 

Deacon  cut  the  cards,  won  the  deal,  and  gave 
them  a  thorough  shuffle.  But  his  luck  was  still 
against  him,  and  he  lost  the  game. 

"Another  game,"  he  said.  "We  didn't  say 
how  many,  and  you  can't  quit  with  me  a  loser. 
I  want  action." 

Grief  shuffled  and  passed  the  cards  for  the 
cut. 

"Let's  play  for  a  thousand,"  Deacon  said, 
when  he  had  lost  the  second  game.  And  when 
the  thousand  had  gone  the  way  of  the  two 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  225 

five  hundred  bets  he  proposed  to  play  for  two 
thousand. 

"That's  progression,"  McMurtrey  warned, 
and  was  rewarded  by  a  glare  from  Deacon.  But 
the  manager  was  insistent.  "You  don't  have 
to  play  progression,  Grief,  unless  you're  foolish." 

"Who's  playing  this  game?"  Deacon  flamed 
at  his  host;  and  then,  to  Grief:  "I've  lost  two 
thousand  to  you.  Will  you  play  for  two  thou 
sand?" 

Grief  nodded,  the  fourth  game  began,  and 
Deacon  won.  The  manifest  unfairness  of  such 
betting  was  known  to  all  of  them.  Though  he 
had  lost  three  games  out  of  four,  Deacon  had 
lost  no  money.  By  the  child's  device  of  dou 
bling  his  wager  with  each  loss,  he  was  bound, 
with  the  first  game  he  won,  no  matter  how  long 
delayed,  to  be  even  again. 

He  now  evinced  an  unspoken  desire  to  stop, 
but  Grief  passed  the  deck  to  be  cut. 

"  What?  "  Deacon  cried.     "  You  want  more?  " 

"Haven't  got  anything  yet,"  Grief  murmured 
whimsically,  as  he  began  the  deal.  "For  the 
usual  five  hundred,  I  suppose?" 


226  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

The  shame  of  what  he  had  done  must  have 
tingled  in  Deacon,  for  he  answered,  "No,  we'll 
play  for  a  thousand.  And  say!  Thirty-one 
points  is  too  long.  Why  not  twenty-one  points 
out  —  if  it  isn't  too  rapid  for  you?" 

"That  will  make  it  a  nice,  quick,  little  game," 
Grief  agreed. 

The  former  method  of  play  was  repeated. 
Deacon  lost  two  games,  doubled  the  stake,  and 
was  again  even.  But  Grief  was  patient,  though 
the  thing  occurred  several  times  in  the' next  hour's 
play.  Then  happened  what  he  was  waiting  for  — 
a  lengthening  in  the  series  of  losing  games  for 
Deacon.  The  latter  doubled  to  four  thousand 
and  lost,  doubled  to  eight  thousand  and  lost,  and 
then  proposed  to  double  to  sixteen  thousand. 

Grief  shook  his  head.  "You  can't  do  that, 
you  know.  You're  only  ten  thousand  credit 
with  the  company.*' 

"You  mean  you  won't  give  me  action?" 
Deacon  asked  hoarsely.  "You  mean  that  with 
eight  thousand  of  my  money  you're  going  to 
quit?" 

Grief  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT 

"It's  robbery, plain  robbery,"  Deacon  went  on. 
"You  take  my  money  and  won't  give  me  action." 

"No,  you're  wrong.  I'm  perfectly  willing 
to  give  you  what  action  you've  got  coming  to 
you.  You've  got  two  thousand  pounds  of  action 
yet." 

"Well,  we'll  play  it,"  Deacon  took  him  up. 
"You  cut." 

The  game  was  played  in  silence,  save  for 
irritable  remarks  and  curses  from  Deacon. 
Silently  the  onlookers  filled  and  sipped  their 
long  Scotch  glasses.  Grief  took  no  notice  of  his 
opponent's  outbursts,  but  concentrated  on  the 
game.  He  was  really  playing  cards,  and  there 
were  fifty-two  in  the  deck  to  be  kept  track  of, 
and  of  which  he  did  keep  track.  Two  thirds 
of  the  way  through  the  last  deal  he  threw  down 
his  hand. 

"Cards  put  m.e  out,"  he  said.  "I  have 
twenty-seven." 

"If  you've  made  a  mistake,"  Deacon  threat 
ened,  his  face  white  and  drawn. 

" Then  I  shall  have  lost.     Count  them." 

Grief  passed  over  his  stack  of  takings,  and 


228  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Deacon,  with  trembling  fingers,  verified  the 
count.  He  half  shoved  his  chair  back  from  the 
table  and  emptied  his  glass.  He  looked  about 
him  at  unsympathetic  faces. 

"I  fancy  I'll  be  catching  the  iie^Jt  steamer  for 
Sydney,"  he  said,  and  for  the  first  time  his 
speech  was  quiet  and  without  bluster. 

As  Grief  told  them  afterward:  "Had  he 
whined  or  raised  a  roar  I  wouldn't  have  given 
him  that  last  chance.  As  it  was,  he  took  his 
medicine  like  a  man,  and  I  had  to  do  it." 

Deacon  glanced  at  his  watch,  simulated  a 
weary  yawn,  and  started  to  rise. 

"Wait,"  Grief  said.  "Do  you  want  further 
action?" 

The  other  sank  down  in  his  chair,  strove  to 
speak,  but  could  not,  licked  his  dry  lips,  and 
nodded  his  head. 

"Captain  Donovan  here  sails  at  daylight  in 
the  Gunga  for  Karo-Karo,"  Grief  began  with 
seeming  irrelevance.  "Karo-Karo  is  a  ring 
of  sand  in  the  sea,  with  a  few  thousand  cocoa- 
nut  trees.  Pandanus  grows  there,  but  they 
can't  grow  sweet  potatoes  nor  taro.  There  are 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  229 

about  eight  hundred  natives,  a  king  and  two 
prime  ministers,  and  the  last  three  named  are 
the  only  ones  who  wear  any  clothes.  It's  a  sort 
of  God-forsaken  little  hole,  and  once  a  year  I 
send  a  schooner  up  from  Goboto.  The  drink 
ing  water  is  brackish,  but  old  Tom  Butler  has 
survived  on  it  for  a  dozen  years.  He's  the  only 
white  man  there,  and  he  has  a  boat's  crew  of 
five  Santa  Cruz  boys  who  would  run  away  or 
kill  him  if  they  could.  That  is  why  they  were 
sent  there.  They  can't  run  away.  He  is  always 
supplied  with  the  hard  cases  from  the  planta 
tions.  There  are  no  missionaries.  Two  native 
Samoan  teachers  were  clubbed  to  death  on 
the  beach  when  they  landed  several  years 
ago. 

"Naturally,  you  are  wondering  what  it  is  all 
about.  But  have  patience.  As  I  have  said, 
Captain  Donovan  sails  on  the  annual  trip  to 
Karo-Karo  at  daylight  to-morrow.  Tom  Butler 
is  old,  and  getting  quite  helpless.  I've  tried  to 
retire  him  to  Australia,  but  he  says  he  wants 
to  remain  and  die  on  Karo-Karo,  and  he  will  in 
the  next  year  or  so.  He's  a  queer  old  codger. 


230  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Now  the  time  is  due  for  me  to  send  some  white 
man  up  to  take  the  work  off  his  hands.  I 
wonder  how  you'd  like  the  job.  You'd  have  to 
stay  two  years. 

"Hold  on!  I've  not  finished.  You've  talked 
frequently  of  action  this  evening.  There's  no 
action  in  betting  away  what  you've  never 
sweated  for.  The  money  you've  lost  to  me  was 
left  you  by  your  father  or  some  other  relative 
who  did  the  sweating.  But  two  years  of  work 
as  trader  on  Karo-Karo  would  mean  something. 
I'll  bet  the  ten  thousand  I've  won  from  you 
against  two  years  of  your  time.  If  you  win, 
the  money's  yours.  If  you  lose,  you  take  the 
job  at  Karo-Karo  and  sail  at  daylight.  Now 
that's  what  might  be  called  real  action.  Will 
you  play?" 

Deacon  could  not  speak.  His  throat  lumped 
and  he  nodded  his  head  as  he  reached  for  the 
cards. 

"One  thing  more,"  Grief  said.  "I  can  do 
even  better.  If  you  lose,  two  years  of  your 
time  are  mine  —  naturally  without  wages.  Nev 
ertheless,  I'll  pay  you  wages.  If  your  work 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  231 

is  satisfactory,  if  you  observe  all  instructions 
and  rules,  I'll  pay  you  five  thousand  pounds  a 
year  for  two  years.  The  money  will  be  de 
posited  with  the  company,  to  be  paid  to  you, 
with  interest,  when  the  time  expires.  Is  that 
all  right?" 

"Too  much  so,"  Deacon  stammered.  :eYou 
are  unfair  to  yourself.  A  trader  only  gets  ten 
or  fifteen  pounds  a  month." 

"Put  it  down  to  action,  then,"  Grief  said, 
with  an  air  of  dismissal.  "And  before  we 
begin,  I'll  jot  down  several  of  the  rules.  These 
you  will  repeat  aloud  every  morning  during  the 
two  years  —  if  you  lose.  They  are  for  the  good 
of  your  soul.  When  you  have  repeated  them 
aloud  seven  hundred  and  thirty  Karo-Karo 
mornings  I  am  confident  they  will  be  in  your 
memory  to  stay.  Lend  me  your  pen,  Mac. 
Now,  let's  see " 

He  wrote  steadily  and  rapidly  for  some 
minutes,  then  proceeded  to  read  the  matter 
aloud : 

"/  must  always  remember  that  one  man  is  as  good  as 
another,  save  and  except  when  he  thinks  he  is  better. 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"  No  matter  how  drunk  I  am  I  must  not  fail  to  be  a  gentle 
man.  A  gentleman  is  a  man  who  is  gentle.  Note:  It 
would  be  better  not  to  get  drunk. 

"  When  I  play  a  man's  game  with  men,  I  must  play  like 
a  man. 

"A  good  curse,  rightly  used  and  rarely,  is  an  efficient 
thing.  Too  many  curses  spoil  the  cursing.  Note:  A 
curse  cannot  change  a  card  seguence  nor  cause  the  wind 
to  blow 

"There  is  no  license  for  a  man  to  be  less  than  a  man. 
Ten  thousand  pounds  cannot  purchase  such  a  license." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  reading  Deacon's 
face  had  gone  white  with  anger.  Then  had 
arisen,  from  neck  to  forehead,  a  slow  and 
terrible  flush  that  deepened  to  the  end  of  the 
reading. 

"There,  that  will  be  all,"  Grief  said,  as  he 
folded  the  paper  and  tossed  it  to  the  centre  of 
the  table.  "Are  you  still  ready  to  play  the 
game?" 

"I  deserve  it,"  Deacon  muttered  brokenly. 
"I've  been  an  ass.  Mr.  Gee,  before  I  know 
whether  I  win  or  lose,  I  want  to  apologize. 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  233 

Maybe  it  was  the  whiskey,  I  don't  know,  but 
I'm  an  ass,  a  cad,  a  bounder  —  everything  that's 
rotten." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  the  half-caste  took 
it  beamingly. 

'I  say,  Grief,"  he  blurted  out,  "the  boy's  all 
right.  Call  the  whole  thing  off,  and  let's  forget 
it  in  a  final  nightcap." 

Grief  showed  signs  of  debating,  but  Deacon 
cried: 

"No;  I  won't  permit  it.  I'm  not  a  quitter. 
If  it's  Karo-Karo,  it's  Karo-Karo.  There's 
nothing  more  to  it." 

"Right,"  said  Grief,  as  he  began  the  shuffle. 
"If  he's  the  right  stuff  to  go  to  Karo-Karo, 
Karo-Karo  won't  do  him  any  harm." 

The  game  was  close  and  hard.  Three  times 
they  divided  the  deck  between  them  and  "cards" 
was  not  scored.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
and  last  deal,  Deacon  needed  three  points  to 
go  out,  and  Grief  needed  four.  "Cards"  alone 
would  put  Deacon  out,and  he  played  for  "cards." 
He  no  longer  muttered  or  cursed,  and  played 
his  best  game  of  the  evening.  Incidentally  he 


234.  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

gathered  in  the  two  black  aces  and  the  ace  of 
hearts. 

'I  suppose  you  can  name  the  four  cards  I 
hold,"  he  challenged,  as  the  last  of  the  deal  was 
exhausted  and  he  picked  up  his  hand. 

Grief  nodded. 

"Then  name  them." 

"The  knave  of  spades,  the  deuce  of  spades, 
the  tray  of  hearts,  and  the  ace  of  diamonds," 
Grief  answered. 

Those  behind  Deacon  and  looking  at  his  hand 
made  no  sign.  Yet  the  naming  had  been  cor 
rect. 

"I  fancy  you  play  casino  better  than  I," 
Deacon  acknowledged.  "I  can  name  only  three 
of  yours,  a  knave,  an  ace,  and  big  casino." 

"Wrong.  There  aren't  five  aces  in  the  deck. 
You've  taken  in  three  and  you  hold  the  fourth 
in  your  hand  now." 

"By  Jove,  you're  right,"  Deacon  admitted. 
"I  did  scoop  in  three.  Anyway,  I'll  make 
"cards'  on  you.  That's  all  I  need." 

"I'll  let  you  save  little  casino "     Grief 

paused  to  calculate.     "Yes,  and  the  ace  as  well, 


A  GOBOTO  NIGHT  235 

and  still  I'll  make  'cards'  and  go  out  with  big 
casino.  Play." 

"No  'cards,'  and  I  win!"  Deacon  exulted  as 
the  last  of  the  hand  was  played.  "I  go  out  on 
little  casino  and  the  four  aces.  'Big  casino'  and 
'spades'  only  bring  you  to  twenty." 

Grief  shook  his  head.  "Some  mistake,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  No,"  Deacon  declared  positively.  "  I  counted 
every  card  I  took  in.  That's  the  one  thing  I 
was  correct  on.  I've  twenty-six,  and  you've 
twenty-six." 

"Count  again,"  Grief  said. 

Carefully  and  slowly,  with  trembling  fingers, 
Deacon  counted  the  cards  he  had  taken.  There 
were  twenty-five.  He  reached  over  to  the 
corner  of  the  table,  took  up  the  rules  Grief  had 
written,  folded  them,  and  put  them  in  his  pocket. 
Then  he  emptied  his  glass,  and  stood  up.  Cap 
tain  Donovan  looked  at  his  watch,  yawned,  and 
also  arose. 

"Going  aboard,  Captain?"  Deacon  asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer.  "What  time  shall 
I  send  the  whaleboat  for  you?" 


236  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"I'll  go  with  you  now.  We'll  pick  up  my 
luggage  from  the  Billy  as  we  go  by.  I  was 
sailing  on  her  for  Babo  in  the  morning." 

Deacon  shook  hands  all  around,  after  receiv 
ing  a  final  pledge  of  good  luck  on  Karo-Karo. 

"Does  Tom  Butler  play  cards?"  he  asked 
Grief. 

"Solitaire,"  was  the  answer. 

"Then  I'll  teach  him  double  solitaire."  Dea 
con  turned  toward  the  door,  where  Captain 
Donovan  waited,  and  added  with  a  sigh,  "And 
I  fancy  he'll  skin  me,  too,  if  he  plays  like  the 
rest  of  you  island  men." 


Chapter  Seven 
THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN 


It  was  the  island  of  Fitu-Iva  —  the  last 
independent  Polynesian  stronghold  in  the  South 
Seas.  Three  factors  conduced  to  Fitu-Iva's 
independence.  The  first  and  second  were  its 
isolation  and  the  warlikeness  of  its  population. 
But  these  would  not  have  saved  it  in  the  end 
had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  Japan,  France, 
Great  Britain,  Germany,  and  the  United  States 
discovered  its  desirableness  simultaneously.  It 
was  like  gamins  scrambling  for  a  penny.  They 
got  in  one  another's  way.  The  war  vessels 
of  the  five  Powers  cluttered  Fitu-Iva's  one  small 
harbour.  There  were  rumours  of  war  and 
threats  of  war.  Over  its  morning  toast  all  the 
world  read  columns  about  Fitu-Iva.  As  a 
Yankee  blue  jacket  epitomized  it  at  the 

237 


238  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

time,  they  all  got  their  feet  in  the  trough  at 
once. 

So  it  was  that  Fitu-Iva  escaped  even  a  joint 
protectorate,  and  King  Tulifau,  otherwise  Tui 
Tulifau,  continued  to  dispense  the  high  jus 
tice  and  the  low  in  the  frame-house  palace  built 
for  him  by  a  Sydney  trader  out  of  California 
redwood.  Not  only  was  Tui  Tulifau  every  inch 
a  king,  but  he  was  every  second  a  king.  When 
he  had  ruled  fifty-eight  years  and  five  months, 
he  was  only  fifty-eight  years  and  three  months 
old.  That  is  to  say,  he  had  ruled  over  five 
million  seconds  more  than  he  had  breathed, 
having  been  crowned  two  months  before  he  was 
born. 

He  was  a  kingly  king,  a  royal  figure  of  a  man, 
standing  six  feet  and  a  half,  and,  without  be 
ing  excessively  fat,  weighing  three  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds.  But  this  was  not  unusual  for 
Polynesian  " chief  stock."  Sepeli,  his  queen, 
was  six  feet  three  inches  and  weighed  two  hun 
dred  and  sixty,  while  her  brother,  Uiliami,  who 
commanded  the  army  in  the  intervals  of  resig 
nation  from  the  premiership,  topped  her  by 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        239 

an  inch  and  notched  her  an  even  half -hundred 
weight.  Tui  Tulifau  was  a  merry  soul,  a  great 
feaster  and  drinker.  So  were  all  his  people 
merry  souls,  save  in  anger,  when,  on  occasion, 
they  could  be  guilty  even  of  throwing  dead 
pigs  at  those  who  made  them  wroth.  Never 
theless,  on  occasion,  they  could  fight  like 
Maoris,  as  piratical  sandalwood  traders  and 
Blackbirders  in  the  old  days  learned  to  their 
cost. 

II 

Grief's  schooner,  the  Cantani,  had  passed  the 
Pillar  Rocks  at  the  entrance  two  hours  before 
and  crept  up  the  harbour  to  the  whispering 
flutters  of  a  breeze  that  could  not  make  up  its 
mind  to  blow.  It  was  a  cool,  starlight  evening, 
and  they  lolled  about  the  poop  waiting  till  their 
snail's  pace  would  bring  them  to  the  anchorage. 
Willie  Smee,  the  supercargo,  emerged  from  the 
cabin,  conspicuous  in  his  shore  clothes.  The 
mate  glanced  at  his  shirt,  of  the  finest  and  whit 
est  silk,  and  giggled  significantly. 

"Dance,  to-night,  I  suppose?"  Grief  observed. 


240  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"No,"  said  the  mate.  "It's  Taitua.  Wil 
lie's  stuck  on  her. " 

"Catch  me,"  the  supercargo  disclaimed. 

"Then  she's  stuck  on  you,  and  it's  all  the 
same,"  the  mate  went  on.  "You  won't  be 
ashore  half  an  hour  before  you'll  have  a  flower 
behind  your  ear,  a  wreath  on  your  head,  and 
your  arm  around  Taitua. " 

"Simple  jealousy,"  Willie  Smee  sniffed. 
"You'd  like  to  have  her  yourself,  only  you 
can't." 

"I  can't  find  shirts  like  that,  that's  why. 
I'll  bet  you  half  a  crown  you  won't  sail  from 
Fitu-Iva  with  that  shirt. " 

"And  if  Taitua  doesn't  get  it,  it's  an  even 
break  Tui  Tulifau  does,"  Grief  warned.  "Bet 
ter  not  let  him  spot  that  shirt,  or  it's  all  day  with 
it." 

"That's  right,"  Captain  Boig  agreed,  turn 
ing  his  head  from  watching  the  house  lights  on 
the  shore.  "Last  voyage  he  fined  one  of  my 
Kanakas  out  of  a  fancy  belt  and  sheath-knife." 
He  turned  to  the  mate.  "You  can  let  go  any 
time,  Mr.  Marsh.  Don't  give  too  much  slack. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN       241 

There's  no  sign  of  wind,  and  in  the  morning  we 
may  shift  opposite  the  copra-sheds. " 

A.  minute  later  the  anchor  rumbled  down. 
The  whaleboat,  already  hoisted  out,  lay  along 
side,  and  the  shore-going  party  dropped  into  it. 
Save  for  the  Kanakas,  who  were  all  bent  for 
shore,  only  Grief  and  the  supercargo  were  in  the 
boat.  At  the  head  of  the  little  coral-stone  pier 
Willie  Smee,  with  an  apologetic  gurgle,  separated 
from  his  employer  and  disappeared  down  an 
avenue  of  palms.  Grief  turned  in  the  opposite 
direction  past  the  front  of  the  old  mission 
church.  Here,  among  the  graves  on  the  beach, 
lightly  clad  in  ahu's  and  lava-lavas,  flower- 
crowned  and  garlanded,  with  great  phospho 
rescent  hibiscus  blossoms  in  their  hair,  youths 
and  maidens  were  dancing.  Farther  on,  Grief 
passed  the  long,  grass-built  himine  house,  where 
a  few  score  of  the  elders  sat  in  long  rows  chant 
ing  the  old  hymns  taught  them  by  forgotten 
missionaries.  He  passed  also  the  palace  of 
Tui  Tulifau,  where,  by  the  lights  and  sounds, 
he  knew  the  customary  revelry  was  going  on. 
For  of  the  happy  South  Sea  isles,  Fitu-Iva  was 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

the  happiest.  They  feasted  and  frolicked  at 
births  and  deaths,  and  the  dead  and  the  unborn 
were  likewise  feasted. 

Grief  held  steadily  along  the  Broom  Road, 
which  curved  and  twisted  through  a  lush 
growth  of  flowers  and  fern-like  algarobas.  The 
warm  air  was  rich  with  perfume,  and  overhead, 
outlined  against  the  stars,  were  fruit-burdened 
mangoes,  stately  avocado  trees,  and  slender- 
tufted  palms.  Every  here  and  there  were 
grass  houses.  Voices  and  laughter  rippled 
through  the  darkness.  Out  on  the  water  flick 
ering  lights  and  soft-voiced  choruses  marked 
the  fishers  returning  from  the  reef. 

At  last  Grief  stepped  aside  from  the  road, 
stumbling  over  a  pig  that  grunted  indignantly. 
Looking  through  an  open  door,  he  saw  a  stout 
and  elderly  native  sitting  on  a  heap  of  mats 
a  dozen  deep.  From  time  to  time,  automati 
cally,  he  brushed  his  naked  legs  with  a  cocoa- 
nut-fibre  fly-flicker.  He  wore  glasses,  and  was 
reading  methodically  in  what  Grief  knew  to  be 
an  English  Bible.  For  this  was  leremia,  his 
trader,  so  named  from  the  prophet  Jeremiah. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        243 

leremia  was  lighter-skinned  than  the  Fitu- 
Ivans,  as  was  natural  in  a  full-blooded  Samoan. 
Educated  by  the  missionaries,  as  lay  teacher 
he  had  served  their  cause  well  over  in  the 
cannibal  atolls  to  the  westward.  As  a  re 
ward,  he  had  been  sent  to  the  paradise  of 
Fitu-Iva,  where  all  were  or  had  been  good 
converts,  to  gather  in  the  backsliders.  Un 
fortunately,  leremia  had  become  too  well  edu 
cated.  A  stray  volume  of  Darwin,  a  nagging 
wife,  and  a  pretty  Fitu-Ivan  widow  had  driven 
him  into  the  ranks  of  the  backsliders.  It  was 
not  a  case  of  apostasy.  The  effect  of  Darwin 
had  been  one  of  intellectual  fatigue.  What 
was  the  use  of  trying  to  understand  this  vastly 
complicated  and  enigmatical  world,  especially 
when  one  was  married  to  a  nagging  woman? 
As  leremia  slackened  in  his  labours,  the  mission 
board  threatened  louder  and  louder  to  send  him 
back  to  the  atolls,  while  his  wife's  tongue  grew 
correspondingly  sharper.  Tui  Tulifau  was  a 
sympathetic  monarch,  whose  queen,  on  oc 
casions  when  he  was  particularly  drunk,  was 
known  to  beat  him.  For  political  reasons  — 


244  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

the  queen  belonging  to  as  royal  stock  as  him 
self  and  her  brother  commanding  the  army  - 
Tui  Tulifau  could  not  divorce  her,  but  he  could 
and  did  divorce  leremia,  who  promptly  took 
up  with  commercial  life  and  the  lady  of  his 
choice.  As  an  independent  trader  he  had  failed, 
chiefly  because  of  the  disastrous  patronage 
of  Tui  Tulifau.  To  refuse  credit  to  that  merry 
monarch  was  to  invite  confiscation;  to  grant 
him  credit  was  certain  bankruptcy.  After  a 
year's  idleness  on  the  beach,  leremia  had  become 
David  Grief's  trader,  and  for  a  dozen  years  his 
service  had  been  honourable  and  efficient,  for 
Grief  had  proven  the  first  man  who  successfully 
refused  credit  to  the  king  or  who  collected  when 
it  had  been  accorded. 

leremia  looked  gravely  over  the  rims  of  his 
glasses  when  his  employer  entered,  gravely 
marked  the  place  in  the  Bible  and  set  it  aside, 
and  gravely  shook  hands. 

"I  am  glad  you  came  in  person, "  he  said. 

"How  else  could  I  come?"  Grief  laughed. 

But  leremia  had  no  sense  of  humour,  and  he 
ignored  the  remark. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN       245 

"The  commercial  situation  on  the  island  is 
damn  bad,"  he  said  with  great  solemnity  and 
an  unctuous  mouthing  of  the  many-syllabled 
words.  "My  ledger  account  is  shocking." 

"Trade  bad?" 

"On  the  contrary.  It  has  been  excellent. 
The  shelves  are  empty,  exceedingly  empty. 

But '  His  eyes  glistened  proudly.  "But 

there  are  many  goods  remaining  in  the  store 
house;  I  have  kept  it  carefully  locked." 

"  Been  allowing  Tui  Tulif au  too  much  credit?  " 

"On  the  contrary.  There  has  been  no  credit 
at  all.  And  every  old  account  has  been  settled 
up." 

"I  don't  follow  you,  leremia,"  Grief  con 
fessed.  "What's  the  joke?  —  shelves  empty, 
no  credit,  old  accounts  all  square,  storehouse 
carefully  locked  —  what's  the  answer?" 

leremia  did  not  reply  immediately.  Reach 
ing  under  the  rear  corner  of  the  mats,  he  drew 
forth  a  large  cash-box.  Grief  noted  and  won 
dered  that  it  was  not  locked.  The  Samoan 
had  always  been  fastidiously  cautious  in  guard 
ing  cash.  The  box  seemed  filled  with  paper 


246  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

money.     He  skinned  off  the  top  no* 
it  over. 

"There  is  the  answer." 

Grief  glanced  at  a  fairly  well  ex^ 
note.     "The  First  Royal  Bank  of  Fitu-j., 
pay  to  bearer  on  demand  one  pound  sterling/9 
he  read.     In  the  centre  was  the  smudged  like 
ness  of  a  native  face.     At  the  bottom  was  the 
signature  of  Tui  Tulifau,  and  the  signature  of 
Fulualea,    with    the    printed    information    ap 
pended,  "Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer." 

"Who  the  deuce  is  Fulualea?"  Grief  de 
manded.  "It's  Fijian,  isn't  it?  —  meaning  the 
feathers  of  the  sun?" 

"Just  so.  It  means  the  feathers  of  the  sun. 
Thus  does  this  base  interloper  caption  him 
self.  He  has  come  up  from  Fiji  to  turn  Fitu-Iva 
upside  down  —  that  is,  commercially. " 

"Some  one  of  those  smart  Levuka  boys,  I 
suppose?" 

leremia  shook  his  head  sadly.  "No,  this  low 
fellow  is  a  white  man  and  a  scoundrel.  He  has 
taken  a  noble  and  high-sounding  Fijian  name 
and  dragged  it  in  the  dirt  to  suit  his  nefarious 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        247 

purposes.  He  has  made  Tui  Tulifau  drunk. 
He  has  made  him  very  drunk.  He  has  kept  him 
very  drunk  all  the  time.  In  return,  he  has  been 
made  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  and  other 
things.  He  has  issued  this  false  paper  and 
compelled  the  people  to  receive  it.  He  has 
levied  a  store  tax,  a  copra  tax,  and  a  tobacco 
tax.  There  are  harbour  dues  and  regulations, 
and  other  taxes.  But  the  people  are  not 
taxed  —  only  the  traders.  When  the  copra 
tax  was  levied,  I  lowered  the  purchasing  price 
accordingly.  Then  the  people  began  to  grum 
ble,  and  Feathers  of  the  Sun  passed  a  new  law, 
setting  the  old  price  back  and  forbidding  any 
man  to  lower  it.  Me  he  fined  two  pounds  and 
five  pigs,  it  being  well  known  that  I  possessed 
five  pigs.  You  will  find  them  entered  in  the 
ledger.  Hawkins,  who  is  trader  for  the  Ful 
crum  Company,  was  fined  first  pigs,  then  gin, 
and,  because  he  continued  to  make  loud  con 
versation,  the  army  came  and  burned  his  store. 
When  I  declined  to  sell,  this  Feathers  of  the 
Sun  fined  me  once  more  and  promised  to  burn 
the  store  if  again  I  offended.  So  I  sold  all  that 


248  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

was  on  the  shelves,  and  there  is  the  box  full  of 
worthless  paper.  I  shall  be  chagrined  if  you  pay 
me  my  salary  in  paper,  but  it  would  be  just,  no 
more  than  just.  Now,  what  is  to  be  done?  " 

Grief  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  must  first 
see  this  Feathers  of  the  Sun  and  size  up  the 
situation. " 

"Then  you  must  see  him  soon,"  leremia 
advised.  "Else  he  will  have  an  accumulation 
of  many  fines  against  you.  Thus  does  he  absorb 
all  the  coin  of  the  realm.  He  has  it  all  now,  save 
what  has  been  buried  in  the  ground." 

Ill 

On  his  way  back  along  the  Broom  Road,  un 
der  the  lighted  lamps  that  marked  the  entrance 
to  the  palace  grounds,  Grief  encountered  a  short, 
rotund  gentleman,  in  unstarched  ducks,  smooth- 
shaven  and  of  florid  complexion,  who  was  just 
emerging.  Something  about  his  tentative,  sat 
urated  gait  was  familiar.  Grief  knew  it  on  the 
instant.  On  the  beaches  of  a  dozen  South 
Sea  ports  had  he  seen  it  before. 

"Of  all  men,  Cornelius  Deasy!"  he  cried. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN 

"If  it  ain't  Grief  himself,  the  old  devil,"  was 
the  return  greeting,  as  they  shook  hands. 

"If  you'll  come  on  board  I've  some  choice 
smoky  Irish,"  Grief  invited. 

Cornelius  threw  back  his  shoulders  and 
stiffened. 

"Nothing  doin',  Mr.  Grief.  'Tis  Fulualea 
I  am  now.  No  blarneyin'  of  old  times  for  me. 
Also,  and  by  the  leave  of  his  gracious  Majesty 
King  Tulifau,  'tis  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
I  am,  an'  Chief  Justice  I  am,  save  in  moments 
of  royal  sport  when  the  king  himself  chooses  to 
toy  with  the  wheels  of  justice." 

Grief  whistled  his  amazement.  "So  you're 
Feathers  of  the  Sun!" 

"I  prefer  the  native  idiom,"  was  the  correc 
tion.  "Fulualea,  an'  it  please  you.  Not  for- 
gettin'  old  times,  Mr.  Grief,  it  sorrows  the  heart 
of  me  to  break  you  the  news.  You'll  have  to 
pay  your  legitimate  import  duties  same  as  any 
other  trader  with  mind  intent  on  robbin'  the 
gentle  Polynesian  savage  on  coral  isles  implanted. 

Where  was  I?  Ah!  I  remember.  You've 

violated  the  regulations.  With  malice  intent 


250  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

have  you  entered  the  port  of  Fitu-Iva  after 
sunset  without  sidelights  burnin'.  Don't  inter 
rupt.  With  my  own  eyes  did  I  see  you.  For 
which  offence  are  you  fined  the  sum  of  five 
pounds.  Have  you  any  gin?  'Tis  a  serious 
offence.  Not  lightly  are  the  lives  of  the  mari 
ners  of  our  commodious  port  to  be  risked  for 
the  savin'  of  a  penny 'orth  of  oil.  Did  I  ask: 
have  you  any  gin?  'Tis  the  harbour  master 
that  asks." 

"You've  taken   a  lot   on  your  shoulders," 
Grief  grinned. 

"'Tis  the  white  man's  burden.  These  rap 
scallion  traders  have  been  puttin'  it  all  over  poor 
Tui  Tulifau,  the  best-hearted  old  monarch  that 
ever  sat  a  South  Sea  throne  an'  mopped  grog- 
root  from  the  imperial  calabash.  'Tis  I,  Cor 
nelius  —  Fulualea,  rather  —  that  am  here  to 
see  justice  done.  Much  as  I  dislike  the  doin' 
of  it,  as  harbour  master  'tis  my  duty  to  find  you 
guilty  of  breach  of  .arantine. v 

"Quarantine?" 

"'Tis    the    rulin'    of    the    port    doctor.     No 
intercourse  with  the  shore  till  the  ship  is  passed. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN 

What  dire  calamity  to  the  confidin'  native  if 
chicken  pox  or  whoopin'  cough  was  aboard  of 
you!  Who  is  there  to  protect  the  gentle,  con 
fidin'  Polynesian?  I,  Fulualea,  the  Feathers 
of  the  Sun,  on  my  high  mission." 

"Who  in  hell  is  the  port  doctor?"  Grief 
queried. 

f  'Tis  me,  Fulualea.  Your  offence  is  serious. 
Consider  yourself  fined  five  cases  of  first- 
quality  Holland  gin." 

Grief  laughed  heartily".  "  We'll  compromise, 
Cornelius.  Come  aboard  and  have  a  drink. " 

The  Feathers  of  the  Sun  waved  the  proffer 
aside  grandly.  "  'Tis  bribery.  I'll  have  none  of 
it  —  me  faithful  to  my  salt.  And  wherefore 
did  you  not  present  your  ship's  papers?  As 
chief  of  the  custom  house  you  are  fined  five 
pounds  and  two  more  cases  of  gin." 

"Look  here,  Cornelius.  A  joke's  a  joke,  but 
this  one  has  gone  far  enough.  This  is  not 
Levuka.  I've  half  a  minn  to  pull  your  nose 
for  you.  You  can't  buck  me. " 

The  Feathers  of  the  Sun  retreated  unsteadily 
and  in  alarm. 


252  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Lay  no  violence  on  me,"  he  threatened. 
"You're  right.  This  is  not  Levuka.  And  by 
the  same  token,  with  Tui  Tulifau  and  the  royal 
army  behind  me,  buck  you  is  just  the  thing  I 
can  and  will.  You'll  pay  them  fines  promptly, 
or  I'll  confiscate  your  vessel.  You're  not  the 
first.  What  does  that  Chink  pearl-buyer,  Peter 
Gee,  do  but  slip  into  harbour,  violatin'  all 
regulations  an'  makin'  rough  house  for  the 
matter  of  a  few  paltry  fines.  No;  he  wouldn't 
pay  'em,  and  he's  on  the  beach  now  thinkin' 
it  over." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say ' 

"Sure  an'  I  do.  In  the  high  exercise  of  office 
I  seized  his  schooner.  A  fifth  of  the  loyal  army 
is  now  in  charge  on  board  of  her.  She'll  be 
sold  this  day  week.  Some  ten  tons  of  shell 
in  the  hold,  and  I'm  wonderin'  if  I  can  trade  it 
to  you  for  gin.  I  can  promise  you  a  rare  bar 
gain.  How  much  gin  did  you  say  you  had?" 

"Still  more  gin,  eh?" 

"An'  why  not?  'Tis  a  royal  souse  is  Tui 
Tulifau.  Sure  it  keeps  my  wits  workin'  over 
time  to  supply  him,  he's  that  amazin'  liberal 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        253 

with  it.  The  whole  gang  of  hanger-on  chiefs 
is  perpetually  loaded  to  the  guards.  It's  dis 
graceful.  Are  you  goin'  to  pay  them  fines, 
Mr.  Grief,  or  is  it  to  harsher  measures  I'll  be 
forced?" 

Grief  turned  impatiently  on  his  heel. 

"Cornelius,  you're  drunk.  Think  it  over  and 
come  to  your  senses.  The  old  rollicking  South 
Sea  days  are  gone.  You  can't  play  tricks  like 
that  now." 

"If  you  think  you're  goin'  on  board,  Mr. 
Grief,  I'll  save  you  the  trouble.  I  know  your 
kind.  9  I  foresaw  your  stiff-necked  stubborn 
ness.  An'  it's  forestalled  you  are.  'Tis  on 
the  beach  you'll  find  your  crew.  The  vessel's 
seized. " 

Grief  turned  back  on  him  in  the  half-belief 
still  that  he  was  joking.  Fulualea  again  re 
treated  in  alarm.  The  form  of  a  large  man 
loomed  beside  him  in  the  darkness. 

"Is  it  you,  Uiliami?"  Fulualea  crooned. 
"Here  is  another  sea  pirate.  Stand  by  me  with 
the  strength  of  thy  arm,  O  Herculean  brother. " 

"  Greeting,  Uiliami, "  Grief  said.  "  Since  when 


254  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

has  Fitu-Iva  come  to  be  run  by  a  Levuka  beach 
comber?  He  says  my  schooner  has  been  seized. 
Is  it  true?" 

"It  is  true,"  Uiliami  boomed  from  his  deep 
chest.  "Have  you  any  more  silk  shirts  like 
Willie  Smee's?  Tui  Tulifau  would  like  such  a 
shirt.  He  has  heard  of  it. " 

"'Tis  all  the  same,"  Fulualea  interrupted. 
"Shirts  or  schooners,  the  king  shall  have  them. " 

"Rather  high-handed,  Cornelius,"  Grief  mur- 
inuredJ  ]  "It's  rank  piracy.  You  seized  my 
vessel  without  giving  me  a  chance. " 

"A  chance  is  it?  As  we  stood  here,  not  five 
minutes  gone,  didn't  you  refuse  to  pay  your 
fines?" 

"But  she  was  already  seized." 

"Sure,  an'  why  not?  Didn't  I  know  you'd 
refuse?  'Tis  all  fair,  an'  no  injustice  done  - 
Justice,  the  bright,  particular  star  at  whose 
shining  altar  Cornelius  Deasy  —  or  Fulualea, 
'tis  the  same  thing  —  ever  worships.  Get  thee 
gone,  Mr.  Trader,  or  I'll  set  the  palace  guards 
on  you.  Uiliami,  'tis  a  desperate  character, 
this  trader  man.  Call  the  guards. " 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        255 

Uiliami  blew  the  whistle  suspended  on  his 
broad  bare  chest  by  a  cord  of  cocoanut  sennit. 
Grief  reached  out  an  angry  hand  for  Cornelius, 
who  titubated  into  safety  behind  Uiliami's 
massive  bulk.  A  dozen  strapping  Polynesians, 
not  one  under  six  feet,  ran  down  the  palace  walk 
and  ranged  behind  their  commander. 

"Get  thee  gone,  Mr.  Trader,"  Cornelius 
ordered.  "The  interview  is  terminated.  We'll 
try  your  several  cases  in  the  mornin'.  Appear 
promptly  at  the  palace  at  ten  o'clock  f  >  answer 
to  the  followin'  charges,  to  wit:  breach  of  the 
peace;  seditious  and  treasonable  utterance; 
violent  assault  on  the  chief  magistrate  with 
intent  to  cut,  wound,  maim,  an'  bruise;  breach 
of  quarantine;  violation  of  harbour  regulations; 
and  gross  breakage  of  custom  house  rules.  In  the 
mornin',  fellow,  in  the  mornin',  justice  shall  be 
done  while  the  breadfruit  falls.  And  the  Lord 
have  mercy  on  your  soul." 

Ill 

Before  the  hour  set  for  the  trial  Grief,  ac 
companied  by  Peter  Gee,  won  access  to  Tui 


256  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Tulifau.  The  king,  surrounded  by  half  a 
dozen  chiefs,  lay  on  mats  under  the  shade  of 
the  avocados  in  the  palace  compound.  Early 
as  was  the  hour,  palace  maids  were  industriously 
serving  squarefaces  of  gin.  The  king  was  glad 
to  see  his  old  friend  Davida,  and  regretful  that 
he  had  run  foul  of  the  new  regulations.  Be 
yond  that  he  steadfastly  avoided  discussion  of 
the  matter  in  hand.  All  protests  of  the  ex 
propriated  traders  were  washed  away  in  proffers 
of  gin.  "Have  a  drink,"  was  his  invariable 
reply,  though  once  he  unbosomed  himself  enough 
to  say  that  Feathers  of  the  Sun  was  a  wonderful 
man.  Never  had  palace  affairs  been  so  pros 
perous.  Never  had  there  been  so  much  money 
in  the  treasury,  nor  so  much  gin  in  circulation. 
"Well  pleased  am  I  with  Fulualea,"  he  con 
cluded.  "Have  a  drink." 

"We've  got  to  get  out  of  this  pronto,"  Grief 
whispered  to  Peter  Gee  a  few  minutes  later, 
"or  we'll  be  a  pair  of  boiled  owls.  Also,  I  am 
to  be  tried  for  arson,  or  heresy,  or  leprosy,  or 
something,  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  must  control 
my  wits." 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        257 

As  they  withdrew  from  the  royal  presence, 
Grief  caught  a  glimpse  of  Sepeli,  the  queen. 
She  was  peering  out  at  her  royal  spouse  and  his 
fellow  tipplers,  and  the  frown  on  her  face  gave 
Grief  his  cue.  Whatever  was  to  be  accomplished 
must  be  through  her. 

In  another  shady  corner  of  the  big  compound 
Cornelius  was  holding  court.  He  had  been  at 
it  early,  for  when  Grief  arrived  the  case  of 
Willie  Smee  was  being  settled.  The  entire 
royal  army,  save  that  portion  in  charge  of  the 
seized  vessels,  was  in  attendance. 

"Let  the  defendant  stand  up, "  said  Cornelius, 
"and  receive  the  just  and  merciful  sentence  of 
the  Court  for  licentious  and  disgraceful  conduct 
unbecomin'  a  supercargo.  The  defendant  says 
he  has  no  money.  Very  well.  The  Court  re 
grets  it  has  no  calaboose.  In  lieu  thereof,  and 
in  view  of  the  impoverished  condition  of  the 
defendant,  the  Court  fines  said  defendant  one 
white  silk  shirt  of  the  same  kind,  make  and 
quality  at  present  worn  by  defendant. " 

Cornelius  nodded  to  several  of  the  soldiers, 
who  led  the  supercargo  away  behind  an  avocado 


258  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

tree.     A  minute  later  he  emerged,  minus  the 
garment  in  question,  and  sat  down  beside  Grief. 

"What  have  you  been  up  to?"  Grief  asked. 

"Blessed  if  I  know.     What  crimes  have  you 
committed?" 

"Next  case,"  said  Cornelius  in  his  most 
extra-legal  tones.  "David  Grief,  defendant, 
stand  up.  The  Court  has  considered  the  evi 
dence  in  the  case,  or  cases,  and  renders  the 
following  judgment,  to  wit: — Shut  up!"  he 
thundered  at  Grief,  who  had  attempted  to  in 
terrupt.  "I  tell  you  the  evidence  has  been 
considered,  deeply  considered.  It  is  no  wish 
of  the  Court  to  lay  additional  hardship  on  the 
defendant,  and  the  Court  takes  this  opportu 
nity  to  warn  the  defendant  that  he  is  liable  for 
contempt.  For  open  and  wanton  violation  of 
harbour  rules  and  regulations,  breach  of  quar 
antine,  and  disregard  of  shipping  laws,  his 
schooner,  the  Cantani,  is  hereby  declared  con 
fiscated  to  the  Government  of  Fitu-Iva,  to  be 
sold  at  public  auction,  ten  days  from  date,  with 
all  appurtenances,  fittings,  and  cargo  thereunto 
pertaining.  For  the  personal  crimes  of  the  de- 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        259 

f  endant,  consisting  of  violent  and  turbulent  con 
duct  and  notorious  disregard  of  the  laws  of  the 
realm,  he  is  fined  in  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
pounds  sterling  and  fifteen  cases  of  gin.  I  will 
not  ask  you  if  you  have  anything  to  say.  But 
will  you  pay?  That  is  the  question." 

Grief  shook  his  head. 

"In  the  meantime,"  Cornelius  went  on, 
"consider  yourself  a  prisoner  at  large.  There 
is  no  calaboose  in  which  to  confine  you.  And 
finally,  it  has  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
Court,  that  at  an  early  hour  of  this  morning, 
the  defendant  did  wilfully  and  deliberately  send 
Kanakas  in  his  employ  out  on  the  reef  to  catch 
fish  for  breakfast.  This  is  distinctly  an  in 
fringement  of  the  rights  of  the  fisherfolk  of 
Fitu-Iva.  Home  industries  must  be  protected. 
This  conduct  of  the  defendant  is  severely  repre 
hended  by  the  Court,  and  on  any  repetition  of 
the  offence  the  offender  and  offenders,  all  and 
sundry,  shall  be  immediately  put  to  hard  labour 
on  the  improvement  of  the  Broom  Road.  The 
court  is  dismissed. " 

As  they  left  the  compound,  Peter  Gee  nudged 


260  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

Grief  to  look  where  Tui  Tulifau  reclined  on  the 
mats.  The  supercargo's  shirt,  stretched  and 
bulged,  already  encased  the  royal  fat. 

IV 

"The  thing  is  clear, "  said  Peter  Gee,  at  a 
conference  in  leremia's  house.  "Deasy  has 
about  gathered  in  all  the  coin.  In  the  mean 
time  he  keeps  the  king  going  on  the  gin  he's 
captured  on  our  vessels.  As  soon  as  he  can 
maneuver  it  he'll  take  the  cash  and  skin  out 
on  your  craft  or  mine. " 

"He  is  a  low  fellow,"  leremia  declared,  paus 
ing  in  the  polishing  of  his  spectacles.  "He  is  a 
scoundrel  and  a  blackguard.  He  should  be 
struck  by  a  dead  pig,  by  a  particularly  dead 

pig." 

"The  very  thing,"  said  Grief.     "He  shall  be 

struck  by  a  dead  pig.  leremia,  I  should  not  be 
surprised  if  you  were  the  man  to  strike  him  with 
the  dead  pig.  Be  sure  and  select  a  particularly 
dead  one.  Tui  Tulifau  is  down  at  the  boat 
house  broaching  a  case  of  my  Scotch.  I'm 
going  up  to  the  palace  to  work  kitchen  politics 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        261 

with  the  queen.  In  the  meantime  you  get  a  few 
things  on  your  shelves  from  the  store-room. 
I'll  lend  you  some,  Hawkins.  And  you,  Peter, 
see  the  German  store.  Start  in  all  of  you,  sell 
ing  for  paper.  Remember,  I'll  back  the  losses. 
If  I'm  not  mistaken,  in  three  days  we'll  have  a 
national  council  or  a  revolution.  You,  leremia, 
start  messengers  around  the  island  to  the  fishers 
and  farmers,  everywhere,  even  to  the  mountain 
goat-hunters.  Tell  them  to  assemble  at  the  pal 
ace  three  days  from  now. " 

"But  the  soldiers,"  leremia  objected. 

"I'll  take  care  of  them.  They  haven't  been 
paid  for  two  months.  Besides,  Uiliami  is  the 
queen's  brother.  Don't  have  too  much  on  your 
shelves  at  a  time.  As  soon  as  the  soldiers  show 
up  with  paper,  stop  selling. " 

"Then  will  they  burn  the  stores,"  said  lere 
mia. 

"Let  them.  King  Tulifau  will  pay  for  it  if 
they  do." 

"Will  he  pay  for  my  shirt?"  Willie  Smee  de 
manded. 

"That  is  purely  a  personal  and  private  mat- 


262  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

ter  between  you  and  Tui  Tulifau,"  Grief  an 
swered. 

"It's  beginning  to  split  up  the  back,"  the 
supercargo  lamented.  "I  noticed  that  much 
this  morning  when  he  hadn't  had  it  on  ten  min 
utes.  It  cost  me  thirty  shillings  and  I  only 
wore  it  once. " 

"Where  shall  I  get  a  dead  pig?"  leremia 
asked. 

"Kill  one,  of  course,"  said  Grief.  "Kill  a 
small  one." 

"A  small  one  is  worth  ten  shillings." 

"Then  enter  it  in  your  ledger  under  opera 
ting  expenses."  Grief  paused  a  moment.  "If 
you  want  it  particularly  dead,  it  would  be  well 
to  kill  it  at  once." 

V 

"You  have  spoken  well,  Davida,"  said  Queen 
Sepeli.  "This  Fulualea  has  brought  a  madness 
with  him,  and  Tui  Tulifau  is  drowned  in  gin. 
If  he  does  not  grant  the  big  council,  I  shall  give 
him  a  beating.  He  is  easy  to  beat  when  he  is 
in  drink." 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        263 

She  doubled  up  her  fist,  and  such  were  her 
Amazonian  proportions  and  the  determination 
in  her  face  that  Grief  knew  the  council  would 
be  called.  So  akin  was  the  Fitu-Ivan  tongue 
to  the  Samoan  that  he  spoke  it  like  a  native. 

'And  you,  Uiliami,"  he  said,  "have  pointed 
out  that  the  soldiers  have  demanded  coin  and 
refused  the  paper  Fulualea  has  offered  them. 
Tell  them  to  take  the  paper  and  see  that  they 
be  paid  to-morrow. " 

"Why  trouble?"  Uiliami  objected.  "The 
king  remains  happily  drunk.  There  is  much 
money  in  the  treasury.  And  I  am  content. 
In  my  house  are  two  cases  of  gin  and  much 
goods  from  Hawkins's  store. " 

"Excellent  pig,  O  my  brother !"  Sepeli  erupted. 
"Has  not  Davida  spoken?  Have  you  no  ears? 
When  the  gin  and  the  goods  in  your  house  are 
gone,  and  no  more  traders  come  with  gin  and 
goods,  and  Feathers  of  the  Sun  has  run  away  to 
Levuka  with  all  the  cash  money  of  Fitu-Iva, 
what  then  will  you  do?  Cash  money  is  silver 
and  gold,  but  paper  is  only  paper.  I  tell  you 
the  people  are  grumbling.  There  is  no  fish  in 


264  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

the  palace.  Yams  and  sweet  potatoes  seem  to 
have  fled  from  the  soil,  for  they  come  not.  The 
mountain  dwellers  have  sent  no  wild  goat  in  a 
week.  Though  Feathers  of  the  Sun  compels  the 
traders  to  buy  copra  at  the  old  price,  the  people 
sell  not,  for  they  will  have  none  of  the  paper 
money.  Only  to-day  have  I  sent  messengers  to 
twenty  houses.  There  are  no  eggs.  Has  Feath 
ers  of  the  Sun  put  a  blight  upon  the  hens?  I 
do  not  know.  All  I  know  is  that  there  are  no 
eggs.  Well  it  is  that  those  who  drink  much  eat 
little,  else  would  there  be  a  palace  famine.  Tell 
your  soldiers  to  receive  their  pay.  Let  it  be  in 
his  paper  money. " 

"And  remember,"  Grief  warned,  "though 
there  be  selling  in  the  stores,  when  the  soldiers 
come  with  their  paper  it  will  be  refused.  And 
in  three  days  will  be  the  council,  and  Feathers 
of  the  Sun  will  be  as  dead  as  a  dead  pig. " 

VI 

The  day  of  the  council  found  the  population 
of  the  island  crowded  into  the  capital.  By 
canoe  and  whaleboat,  on  foot  and  donkey-back, 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        265 

the  five  thousand  inhabitants  of  Fitu-Iva  had 
trooped  in.  The  three  intervening  days  had 
had  their  share  of  excitement.  At  first  there 
had  been  much  selling  from  the  sparse  shelves 
of  the  traders.  But  when  the  soldiers  appeared, 
their  patronage  was  declined  and  they  were  told 
to  go  to  Fulualea  for  coin.  "Says  it  not  so  on 
the  face  of  the  paper,"  the  traders  demanded, 
"that  for  the  asking  the  coin  will  be  given  in 
exchange?" 

Only  the  strong  authority  of  Uiliami  had  pre 
vented  the  burning  of  the  traders'  houses.  As 
it  was,  one  of  Grief's  copra-sheds  went  up  in 
smoke  and  was  duly  charged  by  leremia  to  the 
king's  account.  leremia  himself  had  been 
abused  and  mocked,  and  his  spectacles  broken. 
The  skin  was  off  Willie  Smee's  knuckles.  This 
had  been  caused  by  three  boisterous  soldiers 
who  violently  struck  their  jaws  thereon  in  quick 
succession.  Captain  Boig  was  similarly  injured. 
Peter  Gee  had  come  off  undamaged,  because  it 
chanced  that  it  was  bread-baskets  and  not  jaws 
that  struck  him  on  the  fists. 

Tui  Tulifau,  with  Sepeli  at  his  side  and  sur- 


266  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

rounded  by  his  convivial  chiefs,  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  council  in  the  big  compound.  His  right 
eye  and  jaw  were  swollen  as  if  he  too  had 
engaged  in  assaulting  somebody's  fist.  It  was 
palace  gossip  that  morning  that  Sepeli  had  ad 
ministered  a  conjugal  beating.  At  any  rate,  her 
spouse  was  sober,  and  his  fat  bulged  spiritlessly 
through  the  rips  in  Willie  Smee's  silk  shirt. 
His  thirst  was  prodigious,  and  he  was  continu 
ally  served  with  young  drinking  nuts.  Outside 
the  compound,  held  back  by  the  army,  was  the 
mass  of  the  common  people.  Only  the  lesser 
chiefs,  village  maids,  village  beaux,  and  talking 
men  with  their  staffs  of  office  were  permitted 
inside.  Cornelius  Deasy,  as  befitted  a  high  and 
favoured  official,  sat  near  to  the  right  hand  of 
the  king.  On  the  left  of  the  queen,  opposite 
Cornelius  and  surrounded  by  the  white  traders 
he  was  to  represent,  sat  leremia.  Bereft  of 
his  spectacles,  he  peered  short-sightedly  across 
at  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

In  turn,  the  talking  man  of  the  windward 
coast,  the  talking  man  of  the  leeward  coast, 
and  the  talking  man  of  the  mountain  villages, 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        267 

each  backed  by  his  group  of  lesser  talking  men 
and  chiefs,  arose  and  made  oration.  What  they 
said  was  much  the  same.  They  grumbled  about 
the  paper  money.  Affairs  were  not  prosperous. 
No  more  copra  was  being  smoked.  The  peoplk 
were  suspicious.  To  such  a  pass  had  things 
come  that  all  people  wanted  to  pay  their  debts 
and  no  one  wanted  to  be  paid.  Creditors  made 
a  practice  of  running  away  from  debtors.  The 
money  was  cheap.  Prices  were  going  up  and 
commodities  were  getting  scarce.  It  cost  three 
times  the  ordinary  price  to  buy  a  fowl,  and  then 
it  was  tough  and  like  to  die  of  old  age  if  not 
immediately  sold.  The  outlook  was  gloomy. 
There  were  signs  and  omens.  There  was  a 
plague  of  rats  in  some  districts.  The  crops  were 
bad.  The  custard  apples  were  small.  The 
best-bearing  avocado  on  the  windward  coast 
had  mysteriously  shed  all  its  leaves.  The  taste 
had  gone  from  the  mangoes.  The  plantains 
were  eaten  by  a  worm.  The  fish  had  forsaken 
the  ocean  and  vast  numbers  of  tiger-sharks 
appeared.  The  wild  goats  had  fled  to  inac 
cessible  summits.  The  poi  in  the  poi-pits  had 


268  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

turned  bitter.  There  were  rumblings  in  the 
mountains,  night-walking  of  spirits;  a  woman  of 
Punta-Puna  had  been  struck  speechless,  and 
a  five-legged  she-goat  had  been  born  in  the 
village  of  Eiho.  And  that  all  was  due  to  the 
strange  money  of  Fulualea  was  the  firm  con 
viction  of  the  elders  in  the  village  councils  as 
sembled. 

Uiliami  spoke  for  the  army.  His  men  were 
discontented  and  mutinous.  Though  by  royal 
decree  the  traders  were  bidden  accept  the 
money,  yet  did  they  refuse  it.  He  would  not 
say,  but  it  looked  as  if  the  strange  money  of 
Fulualea  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

leremia,  as  talking  man  of  the  traders,  next 
spoke.  When  he  arose,  it  was  noticeable  that 
he  stood  with  legs  spraddled  over  a  large  grass 
basket.  He  dwelt  upon  the  cloth  of  the  traders, 
its  variety  and  beauty  and  durability,  which  so 
exceeded  the  Fitu-Ivan  wet-pounded  tapa,  frag 
ile  and  coarse.  No  one  wore  tapa  any  more. 
Yet  all  had  worn  tapa,  and  nothing  but  tapa, 
before  the  traders  came.  There  was  the  mos 
quito-netting,  sold  for  a  song,  that  the  cleverest 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        269 

Fitu-Ivan  net-weaver  could  not  duplicate  in  a 
thousand  years.  He  enlarged  on  the  incom 
parable  virtues  of  rifles,  axes,  and  steel  fish 
hooks,  down  through  needles,  thread  and  cotton 
fish-lines  to  white  flour  and  kerosene  oil. 

He  expounded  at  length,  with  firstlies  and 
secondlies  and  all  minor  subdivisions  of  argu 
ment,  on  organization,  and  order,  and  civili 
zation.  He  contended  that  the  trader  was  the 
bearer  of  civilization,  and  that  the  trader  must 
be  protected  in  his  trade  else  he  would  not  come. 
Over  to  the  westward  were  islands  which  would 
not  protect  the  traders.  What  was  the  result? 
The  traders  would  not  come,  and  the  people 
were  like  wild  animals.  They  wore  no  clothes, 
no  silk  shirts  (here  he  peered  and  blinked 
significantly  at  the  king),  and  they  ate  one 
another. 

The  queer  paper  of  the  Feathers  of  the  Sun 
was  not  money.  The  traders  knew  what  money 
was,  and  they  would  not  receive  it.  If  Fitu-Iva 
persisted  in  trying  to  make  them  receive  it 
they  would  go  away  and  never  come  back. 
And  then  the  Fitu-Ivans,  who  had  forgotten 


270  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

how  to  make  tapa,  would  run  around  naked  and 
eat  one  another. 

Much  more  he  said,  talking  a  solid  hour, 
and  always  coming  back  to  what  their  dire 
condition  would  be  when  the  traders  came  no 
more.  "And  in  that  day,"  he  perorated, 
"how  will  the  Fitu-Ivan  be  known  in  the  great 
world?  Kai-kanak*  will  men  call  him.  'Kai- 
kanak!  Kai-kanak  /' ' 

Tui  Tulifau  spoke  briefly.  The  case  had  been 
presented,  he  said,  for  the  people,  the  army, 
and  the  traders.  It  was  now  time  for  Feathers 
of  the  Sun  to  present  his  side.  It  could  not  be 
denied  that  he  had  wrought  wonders  with  his 
financial  system.  "Many  times  has  he  ex 
plained  to  me  the  working  of  his  system," 
Tui  Tulifau  concluded.  "  It  is  very  simple.  And 
now  he  will  explain  it  to  you. " 

It  was  a  conspiracy  of  the  white  traders, 
Cornelius  contended.  leremia  was  right  so  far 
as  concerned  the  manifold  blessings  of  white 
flour  and  kerosene  oil.  Fitu-Iva  did  not  want 
to  become  kai-kanak.  Fitu-Iva  wanted  civili- 

*Man-eater. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        271 

zation;  it  wanted  more  and  more  civilization. 
Now  that  was  the  very  point,  and  they  must 
follow  him  closely.  Paper  money  was  an  ear 
mark  of  higher  civilization.  That  was  why  he, 
the  Feathers  of  the  Sun,  had  introduced  it. 
And  that  was  why  the  traders  opposed  it. 
They  did  not  want  to  see  Fitu-Iva  civilized. 
Why  did  they  come  across  the  far  ocean  stretches 
with  their  goods  to  Fitu-Iva?  He,  the  Feathers 
of  the  Sun,  would  tell  them  why,  to  their  faces, 
in  grand  council  assembled.  In  their  own 
countries  men  were  too  civilized  to  let  the 
traders  make  the  immense  profits  that  they 
made  out  of  the  Fitu-Ivans.  If  the  Fitu-Ivans 
became  properly  civilized,  the  trade  of  the 
traders  would  be  gone.  In  that  day  every 
Fitu-Ivan  could  become  a  trader  if  he 
pleased. 

That  was  why  the  white  traders  fought  the 
system  of  paper  money,  that  he,  the  Feathers 
of  the  Sun,  had  brought.  Why  was  he  called 
the  Feathers  of  the  Sun?  Because  he  was  the 
Light-Bringer  from  the  World  Beyond  the  Sky. 
The  paper  money  was  the  light.  The  robbing 


A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

white  traders  could  not  flourish  in  the  light. 
Therefore  they  fought  the  light. 

He  would  prove  it  to  the  good  people  of  Fitu- 
Iva,  and  he  would  prove  it  out  of  the  mouths  of 
his  enemies.  It  was  a  well-known  fact  that  all 
highly  civilized  countries  had  paper-money  sys 
tems.  He  would  ask  leremia  if  this  was  not  so. 

leremia  did  not  answer. 

"You  see,"  Cornelius  went  on,  "he  makes 
no  answer.  He  cannot  deny  what  is  true. 
England,  France,  Germany,  America,  all  the 
great  Papalangi  countries,  have  the  paper- 
money  system.  It  works.  From  century  to 
century  it  works.  I  challenge  you,  leremia,  as 
an  honest  man,  as  one  who  was  once  a  zealous 
worker  in  the  Lord's  vineyard,  I  challenge  you 
to  deny  that  in  the  great  Papalangi  countries 
the  system  works. " 

leremia  could  not  deny,  and  his  fingers  played 
nervously  with  the  fastening  of  the  basket 
on  his  knees. 

"You  see,  it  is  as  I  have  said,"  Cornelius 
continued.  "leremia  agrees  that  it  is  so. 
Therefore,  I  ask  you,  all  good  people  of  Fitu-Iva, 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        273 

if  a  system  is  good  for  the  Papalangi  countries, 
why  is  it  not  good  for  Fitu-Iva?" 

"It  is  not  the  same!'*  leremia  cried.  "The 
paper  of  the  Feathers  of  the  Sun  is  different 
from  the  paper  of  the  great  countries. " 

That  Cornelius  had  been  prepared  for  this 
was  evident.  He  held  up  a  Fitu-Ivan  note 
that  was  recognized  by  all. 

"What  is  that?"  he  demanded. 

"Paper,  mere  paper,"  was  leremia's  reply. 

"And  that?" 

This  time  Cornelius  held  up  a  Bank  of  Eng 
land  note. 

"It  is  the  paper  money  of  the  English,"  he 
explained  to  the  Council,  at  the  same  time 
extending  it  for  leremia  to  examine.  "Is  it 
not  true,  leremia,  that  it  is  paper  money  of 
the  English?" 

leremia  nodded  reluctantly. 

16  You  have  said  that  the  paper  money  of 
Fitu-Iva  was  paper,  now  how  about  this  of  the 
English?  What  is  it?  .  .  .  .  You  must 
answer  like  a  true  man  .  .  .  All  wait  for 
your  answer,  leremia." 


274  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"It  is  —  it  is "  the  puzzled  leremia  be 
gan,  then  spluttered  helplessly,  the  fallacy  be 
yond  his  penetration. 

"Paper,  mere  paper,"  Cornelius  concluded 
for  him,  imitating  his  halting  utterance. 

Conviction  sat  on  the  faces  of  all.  The  king 
clapped  his  hands  admiringly  and  murmured, 
"It  is  most  clear,  very  clear." 

"You  see,  he  himself  acknowledges  it."  As 
sured  triumph  was  in  Deasy's  voice  and  bear 
ing.  "He  knows  of  no  difference.  There  is  no 
difference.  'Tis  the  very  image  of  money. 
Tis  money  itself." 

In  the  meantime  Grief  was  whispering  in 
leremia's  ear,  who  nodded  and  began  to 
speak. 

"But  it  is  well  known  to  all  the  Papalangi 
that  the  English  Government  will  pay  coin 
money  for  the  paper. " 

Deasy's  victory  was  now  absolute.  He  held 
aloft  a  Fitu-Ivan  note. 

"Is  it  not  so  written  on  this  paper  as 
well?" 

Again  Grief  whispered. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        275 

"That  Fitu-Iva  will  pay  coin  money?"  asked 
leremia 

"It  is  so  written." 

A  third  time  Grief  prompted. 

"On  demand?"  asked  leremia. 

"On  demand,"  Cornelius  assured  him. 

"Then  I  demand  coin  money  now,"  said  lere 
mia,  drawing  a  small  package  of  notes  from 
the  pouch  at  his  girdle. 

Cornelius  scanned  the  package  with  a  quick, 
estimating  eye. 

"Very  well,"  he  agreed.  "I  shall  give  you 
the  coin  money  now.  How  much?" 

"And  we  will  see  the  system  work,"  the 
king  proclaimed,  partaking  in  his  Chancellor's 
triumph. 

'  You  have  heard!  —  He  will  give  coin  money 
now!"  leremia  cried  in  a  loud  voice  to  the  as 
semblage. 

At  the  same  time  he  plunged  both  hands  in 
the  basket  and  drew  forth  many  packages  of 
Fitu-Ivan  notes.  It  was  noticed  that  a  peculiar 
odour  was  adrift  about  the  council. 

"I    have    here,"    leremia    announced,    "one 


276  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

thousand  and  twenty-eight  pounds  twelve  shil 
lings  and  sixpence.  Here  is  a  sack  to  put  the 
coin  money  in." 

Cornelius  recoiled.  He  had  not  expected 
such  a  sum,  and  everywhere  about  the  council 
his  uneasy  eyes  showed  him  chiefs  and  talking 
men  drawing  out  bundles  of  notes.  The  army, 
its  two  months'  pay  in  its  hands,  pressed  for 
ward  to  the  edge  of  the  council,  while  behind 
it  the  populace,  with  more  money,  invaded  the 
compound. 

"  'Tis  a  run  on  the  bank  you've  precipitated, " 
he  said  reproachfully  to  Grief. 

"Here  is  the  sack  to  put  the  coin  money  in," 
leremia  urged. 

"It  must  be  postponed,"  Cornelius  said  des 
perately.  "'Tis  not  in  banking  hours." 

leremia  flourished  a  package  of  money. 
"Nothing  of  banking  hours  is  written  here.  It 
says  on  demand,  and  I  now  demand. " 

"Let  them  come  to-morrow,  O  Tui  Tulifau," 
Cornelius  appealed  to  the  king.  "They  shall 
be  paid  to-morrow." 

Tui  Tulifau  hesitated,  but  his  spouse  glared 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        277 

at  him,  her  brawny  arm  tensing  as  the  fist 
doubled  into  a  redoubtable  knot.  Tui  Tulifau 
tried  to  look  away,  but  failed.  He  cleared  his 
throat  nervously. 

"We  will  see  the  system  work,"  he  decreed. 
"The  people  have  come  far." 

"'Tis  good  money  you're  asking  me  to  pay 
out,"  Deasy  muttered  in  a  low  voice  to  the 
king. 

Sepeli  caught  what  he  said,  and  grunted  so 
savagely  as  to  startle  the  king,  who  involun 
tarily  shrank  away  from  her. 

"Forget  not  the  pig,"  Grief  whispered  to 
leremia,  who  immediately  stood  up. 

With  a  sweeping  gesture  he  stilled  the  babel 
of  voices  that  was  beginning  to  rise. 

"It  was  an  ancient  and  honourable  custom 
of  Fitu-Iva,"  he  said,  "that  when  a  man  was 
proved  a  notorious  evildoer  his  joints  were 
broken  with  a  club  and  he  was  staked  out  at 
low  water  to  be  fed  upon  alive  by  the  sharks. 
Unfortunately,  that  day  is  past.  Nevertheless 
another  ancient  and  honourable  custom  remains 
with  us.  You  all  know  what  it  is.  When  a 


278  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

man  is  a  proven  thief  and  liar  he  shall  be  struck 
with  a  dead  pig. " 

His  right  hand  went  into  the  basket,  and, 
despite  the  lack  of  his  spectacles,  the  dead  pig 
that  came  into  view  landed  accurately  on 
Deasy's  neck.  With  such  force  was  it  thrown 
that  the  Chancellor,  in  his  sitting  position, 
toppled  over  sidewise.  Before  he  could  recover, 
Sepeli,  with  an  agility  unexpected  of  a  woman 
who  weighed  two  hundred  and  sixty  pounds, 
had  sprung  across  to  him.  One  hand  clutched 
his  shirt  collar,  the  other  hand  brandished  the 
pig,  and  amid  the  vast  uproar  of  a  delighted 
kingdom  she  royally  swatted  him. 

There  remained  nothing  for  Tui  Tulifau  but 
to  put  a  good  face  on  his  favourite's  disgrace, 
and  his  mountainous  fat  lay  back  on  the  mats 
and  shook  in  a  gale  of  Gargantuan  laughter. 

When  Sepeli  dropped  both  pig  and  Chancellor, 
a  talking  man  from  the  windward  coast  picked 
up  the  carcass.  Cornelius  was  on  his  feet  and 
running,  when  the  pig  caught  him  on  the  legs 
and  tripped  him.  The  people  and  the  army, 
with  shouts  and  laughter,  joined  in  the  sport. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        279 

Twist  and  dodge  as  he  would,  everywhere  the 
ex-Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  was  met  or 
overtaken  by  the  flying  pig.  He  scuttled  like  a 
frightened  rabbit  in  and  out  among  the  avocados 
and  the  palms.  No  hand  was  laid  upon  him, 
and  his  tormentors  made  way  before  him,  but 
ever  they  pursued,  and  ever  the  pig  flew  as  fast 
as  hands  could  pick  it  up. 

As  the  chase  died  away  down  the  Broom 
Road,  Grief  led  the  traders  to  the  royal  treasury, 
and  the  day  was  well  over  ere  the  last  Fitu-Ivan 
bank  note  had  been  redeemed  with  coin. 

VII 

Through  the  mellow  cool  of  twilight  a  man 
paddled  out  from  a  clump  of  jungle  to  the 
Cantani.  It  was  a  leaky  and  abandoned  dugout, 
and  he  paddled  slowly,  desisting  from  time  to 
time  in  order  to  bale.  The  Kanaka  sailors 
giggled  gleefully  as  he  came  alongside  and  pain 
fully  drew  himself  over  the  rail.  He  was  be 
draggled  and  filthy,  and  seemed  half-dazed. 

"Could  I  speak  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Grief?'* 
he  asked  sadly  and  humbly. 


280  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Sit  to  leeward  and  farther  away,"  Grief 
answered.  "A  little  farther  away.  That's  bet 
ter." 

Cornelius  sat  down  on  the  rail  and  held  his 
head  in  both  his  hands. 

"Tis  right,"  he  said.  "I'm  as  fragrant  as 
a  recent  battlefield.  My  head  aches  to  burs  tin'. 
My  neck  is  fair  broken.  The  teeth  are  loose  in 
my  jaws.  There's  nests  of  hornets  buzzin'  in 
my  ears.  My  medulla  oblongata  is  dislocated. 
I've  been  through  earthquake  and  pestilence, 
and  the  heavens  have  rained  pigs. "  He  paused 
with  a  sigh  that  ended  in  a  groan.  "Tis  a 
vision  of  terrible  death.  One  that  the  poets 
never  dreamed.  To  be  eaten  by  rats,  or  boiled 
in  oil,  or  pulled  apart  by  wild  horses  —  that 
would  be  unpleasant.  But  to  be  beaten  to 
death  with  a  dead  pig!"  He  shuddered  at  the 
awfulness  of  it.  "Sure  it  transcends  the  human 
imagination. " 

Captain  Boig  sniffed  audibly,  moved  his  can 
vas  chair  farther  to  windward,  and  sat  down 
again. 

"I  hear  you're  runnin'  over  to  Yap,   Mr. 


THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  SUN        281 

Grief, "  Cornelius  went  on.  "An5  two  things  I'm 
wantin'  to  beg  of  you:  a  passage  an*  the  nip  of 
the  old  smoky  I  refused  the  night  you  landed. " 

Grief  clapped  his  hands  for  the  black  steward 
and  ordered  soap  and  towels. 

"Go  for'ard,  Cornelius,  and  take  a  scrub 
first,"  he  said.  "The  boy  will  bring  you  a 
pair  of  dungarees  and  a  shirt.  And  by  the  way, 
before  you  go,  how  was  it  we  found  more  coin 
in  the  treasury  than  paper  you  had  issued?" 

"'Twas  the  stake  of  my  own  I'd  brought 
with  me  for  the  adventure. " 

"We've  decided  to  charge  the  demurrage  and 
other  expenses  and  loss  to  Tui  Tulifau,"  Grief 
said.  "So  the  balance  we  found  will  be  turned 
over  to  you.  But  ten  shillings  must  be  de 
ducted." 

"For  what?" 

"Do  you  think  dead  pigs  grow  on  trees? 
The  sum  of  ten  shillings  for  that  pig  is  entered 
in  the  accounts. " 

Cornelius  bowed  his  assent  with  a  shudder. 

"Sure  it's  grateful  I  am  it  wasn't  a  fifteen- 
shilling  pig  or  a  twenty-shilling  one." 


Chapter  Eight 
THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY 


The  Kanaka  helmsman  put  the  wheel  down, 
and  the  Malahini  slipped  into  the  eye  of  the 
wind  and  righted  to  an  even  keel.  Her  head- 
sails  emptied,  there  was  a  rat-tat  of  reef -points 
and  quick  shifting  of  boom-tackles,  and  she 
was  heeled  over  and  filled  away  on  the  other 
tack.  Though  it  was  early  morning  and  the 
wind  brisk,  the  five  white  men  who  lounged 
on  the  poop-deck  were  scantily  clad.  David 
Grief,  and  his  guest,  Gregory  Mulhall,  an  Eng 
lishman,  were  still  in  pajamas,  their  naked  feet 
thrust  into  Chinese  slippers.  The  captain  and 
mate  were  in  thin  undershirts  and  unstarched 
duck  pants,  while  the  supercago  still  held  in  his 
hands  the  undershirt  he  was  reluctant  to  put 
on.  The  sweat  stood  out  on  his  forehead,  and 

282 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     283 

he  seemed  to  thrust  his  bare  chest  thirstily  into 
the  wind  that  did  not  cool. 

"Pretty  muggy,  for  a  breeze  like  this,"  he 
complained. 

"And  what's  it  doing  around  in  the  west? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  was  Grief's  con 
tribution  to  the  general  plaint. 

"It  won't  last,  and  it  ain't  been  there  long," 
said  Hermann,  the  Holland  mate.  "She  is 
been  chop  around  all  night  —  five  minutes  here, 
ten  minutes  there,  one  hour  somewhere  other 
quarter." 

"  Something  makin ',  something  makin ',"  Cap 
tain  Warfield  croaked,  spreading  his  bushy 
beard  with  the  fingers  of  both  hands  and  shoving 
the  thatch  of  his  chin  into  the  breeze  in  a 
vain  search  for  coolness.  "Weather's  been  crazy 
for  a  fortnight.  Haven't  had  the  proper  trades 
in  three  weeks.  Everything's  mixed  up.  Barom 
eter  was  pumping  at  sunset  last  night,  and  it's 
pumping  now,  though  the  weather  sharps  say 
it  don't  mean  anything.  All  the  same,  I've 
got  a  prejudice  against  seeing  it  pump.  Gets 
on  my  nerves,  sort  of,  you  know.  She  was 


284  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

pumping  that  way  the  time  we  lost  the  Lan 
caster.  I  was  only  an  apprentice,  but  I  can 
remember  that  well  enough.  Brand  new,  four- 
masted  steel  ship;  first  voyage;  broke  the  old 
man's  heart.  He'd  been  forty  years  in  the 
company.  Just  faded  way  and  died  the  next 
year." 

Despite  the  wind  and  the  early  hour,  the  heat 
was  suffocating.  The  wind  whispered  coolness, 
but  did  not  deliver  coolness.  It  might  have 
blown  off  the  Sahara,  save  for  the  extreme 
humidity  with  which  it  was  laden.  There  was 
no  fog  nor  mist,  nor  hint  of  fog  or  mist,  yet  the 
dimness  of  distance  produced  the  impression. 
There  were  no  defined  clouds,  yet  so  thickly 
were  the  heavens  covered  by  a  messy  cloud- 
pall  that  the  sun  failed  to  shine  through. 

"Ready  about!"  Captain  Warfield  ordered 
with  slow  sharpness. 

The  brown,  breech-clouted  Kanaka  sailors 
moved  languidly  but  quickly  to  head-sheets 
and  boom-tackles. 

"Hard  a-lee!" 

The  helmsman  ran  the  spokes  over  with  no 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     285 

hint  of  gentling,  and  the  Malahini  darted  pret 
tily  into  the  wind  and  about. 

"Jove!  she's  a  witch!"  was  MulhalTs  appre 
ciation.  "I  didn't  know  you  South  Sea  traders 
sailed  yachts." 

"She  was  a  Gloucester  fisherman  originally," 
Grief  explained,  "and  the  Gloucester  boats  are 
all  yachts  when  it  comes  to  build,  rig,  and 
sailing." 

"But  you're  heading  right  in  —  why  don't 
you  make  it?"  came  the  Englishman's  criticism. 

"Try  it,  Captain  Warfield,"  Grief  suggested. 
"Show  him  what  a  lagoon  entrance  is  on  a 
strong  ebb." 

"Close-and-by!"  the  captain  ordered. 

"  Close-and-by ,"  the  Kanaka  repeated,  easing 
half  a  spoke. 

The  Malahini  laid  squarely  into  the  narrow 
passage  which  was  the  lagoon  entrance  of  a 
large,  long,  and  narrow  oval  of  an  atoll.  The 
atoll  was  shaped  as  if  three  atolls,  in  the  course 
of  building,  had  collided  and  coalesced  and  failed 
to  rear  the  partition  walls.  Cocoanut  palms 
grew  in  spots  on  the  circle  of  sand,  and  there 


286  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

were  many  gaps  where  the  sand  was  too  low  to 
the  sea  for  cocoanuts,  and  through  which  could 
be  seen  the  protected  lagoon  where  the  water 
lay  flat  like  the  ruffled  surface  of  a  mirror.  Many 
square  miles  of  water  were  in  the  irregular 
lagoon,  all  of  which  surged  out  on  the  ebb 
through  the  one  narrow  channel.  So  narrow 
was  the  channel,  so  large  the  outflow  of  water, 
that  the  passage  was  more  like  the  rapids  of  a 
river  than  the  mere  tidal  entrance  to  an  atoll. 
The  water  boiled  and  whirled  and  swirled  and 
drove  outward  in  a  white  foam  of  stiff,  serrated 
waves.  Each  heave  and  blow  on  her  bows  of  the 
upstanding  waves  of  the  current  swung  the 
Malahini  off  the  straight  lead  and  wedged  her 
as  with  wedges  of  steel  toward  the  side  of  the 
passage.  Part  way  in  she  was,  when  her  close 
ness  to  the  coral  edge  compelled  her  to  go  about. 
On  the  opposite  tack,  broadside  to  the  current, 
she  swept  seaward  with  the  current's  speed. 

"Now's  the  time  for  that  new  and  expensive 
engine  of  yours,"  Grief  jeered  good-naturedly. 

That  the  engine  was  a  sore  point  with  Captain 
Warfield  was  patent.  He  had  begged  and  badg- 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     287 

ered  for  it,  until  in  the  end  Grief  had  given 
his  consent. 

"It  will  pay  for  itself  yet,"  the  captain  re 
torted.  "You  wait  and  see.  It  beats  insurance 
and  you  know  the  underwriters  won't  stand  for 
insurance  in  the  Paumotus." 

Grief  pointed  to  a  small  cutter  beating  up 
astern  of  them  on  the  same  course. 

"I'll  wager  a  five-franc  piece  the  little  Nuhiva 
beats  us  in." 

"Sure,"  Captain  Warfield  agreed.  "She's 
overpowered.  We're  like  a  liner  alongside  of 
her,  and  we've  only  got  forty  horsepower. 
She's  got  ten  horse,  and  she's  a  little  skimming 
dish.  -  She  could  skate  across  the  froth  of  hell, 
but  just  the  same  she  can't  buck  this  current. 
It's  running  ten  knots  right  now." 

And  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots,  buffeted  and 
jerkily  rolled,  the  Malahini  went  out  to  sea 
with  the  tide. 

"She'll  slacken  in  half  an  hour  —  then  we'll 
make  headway,"  Captain  Warfield  said,  with 
an  irritation  explained  by  his  next  words.  "He 
has  no  right  to  call  it  Parlay.  It's  down  on  the 


288  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

admiralty  charts,  and  the  French  charts,  too, 
as  Hikihoho.  Bougainville  discovered  it  and 
named  it  from  the  natives." 

"What's  the  name  matter ?"  the  supercargo 
demanded,  taking  advantage  of  speech  to  pause 
with  arms  shoved  into  the  sleeves  of  the  under 
shirt.  "There  it  is,  right  under  our  nose,  and 
old  Parlay  is  there  with  the  pearls." 

"Who  see  them  pearl?"  Hermann  queried, 
looking  from  one  to  another. 

"It's  well  known,"  was  the  supercargo's  reply. 
He  turned  to  the  steersman:  "Tai-Hotauri, 
what  about  old  Parlay's  pearls?" 

The  Kanaka,  pleased  and  self-conscious,  took 
and  gave  a  spoke. 

"My  brother  dive  for  Parlay  three,  four 
month,  and  he  make  much  talk  about  pearl. 
Hikihoho  very  good  place  for  pearl." 

"And  the  pearl-buyers  have  never  got  him 
to  part  with  a  pearl,"  the  captain  broke  in. 

"And  they  say  he  had  a  hatful  for  Armande 
when  he  sailed  for  Tahiti,"  the  supercargo 
carried  on  the  tale.  "That's  fifteen  years  ago, 
and  he's  been  adding  to  it  ever  since  —  stored 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     289 

the  shell  as  well.  Everybody's  seen  that  — 
hundreds  of  tons  of  it.  They  say  the  lagoon's 
fished  clean  now.  Maybe  that's  why  he's  an 
nounced  the  auction." 

"If  he  really  sells,  this  will  be  the  biggest 
year's  output  of  pearls  in  the  Paumotus,"  Grief 
said.  * 

"I  say,  now,  look  here!"  Mulhall  burst 
forth,  harried  by  the  humid  heat  as  much  as 
the  rest  of  them.  "  What's  it  all  about?  Who's 
the  old  beachcomber  anyway?  What  are  all 
these  pearls?  Why  so  secretions  about  it?" 

"Hikihoho  belongs  to  old  Parlay,"  the  super 
cargo  answered.  "He's  got  a  fortune  in  pearls, 
saved  up  for  years  and  years,  and  he  sent  the 
word  out  weeks  ago  that  he'd  auction  them  off 
to  the  buyers  to-morrow.  See  those  schooners' 
masts  sticking  up  inside  the  lagoon?" 

"Eight,  so  I  see,"  said  Hermann. 

"What  are  they  doing  in  a  dinky  atoll  like 
this?"  the  supercargo  went  on.  "There  isn't 
a  schooner-load  of  copra  a  year  in  the  place. 
They've  come  for  the  auction.  That's  why 
we're  here.  That's  why  the  little  Nuhiva's 


290  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

bumping  along  astern  there,  though  what  she 
can  buy  is  beyond  me.  Narii  Herring  —  he's 
an  English  Jew  half-caste  —  owns  and  runs 
her,  and  his  only  assets  are  his  nerve,  his  debts, 
and  his  whiskey  bills.  He's  a  genius  in  such 
things.  He  owes  so  much  that  there  isn't  a 
merchant  in  Papeete  who  isn't  interested  in  his 
^welfare.  They  go  out  of  their  way  to  throw 
work  in  his  way.  They've  got  to,  and  a  dandy 
stunt  it  is  for  Narii.  Now  I  owe  nobody. 
What's  the  result?  If  I  fell  down  in  a  fit  on  the 
beach  they'd  let  me  lie  there  and  die.  They 
wouldn't  lose  anything.  But  Narii  Herring? 
—  what  wouldn't  they  do  if  he  fell  in  a  fit? 
Their  best  wouldn't  be  too  good  for  him. 
They've  got  too  much  money  tied  up  in  him 
to  let  him  lie.  They'd  take  him  into  their 
homes  and  hand-nurse  him  like  a  brother.  Let 
me  tell  you,  honesty  in  paying  bills  ain't  what 
it's  cracked  up  to  be." 

"What's  this  Narii  chap  got  to  do  with  it?" 
was  the  Englishman's  short-tempered  demand. 
And,  turning  to  Grief,  he  said,  "What's  all  this 
pearl  nonsense?  Begin  at  the  beginning." 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     291 

"  You'll  have  to  help  me  out,"  Grief  warned 
the  others,  as  he  began.  "Old  Parlay  is  a  char 
acter.  From  what  I've  seen  of  him  I  believe 
he's  partly  and  mildly  insane.  Anyway,  here's 
the  story:  Parlay's  a  full-blooded  Frenchman. 
He  told  me  once  that  he  came  from  Paris.  His 
accent  is  the  true  Parisian.  He  arrived  down 
here  in  the  old  days.  Went  to  trading  and  all 
the  rest.  That's  how  he  got  in  on  Hikihoho. 
Came  in  trading  when  trading  was  the  real 
thing.  About  a  hundred  miserable  Paumotans 
lived  on  the  island.  He  married  the  queen  — 
native  fashion.  When  she  died,  everything  was 
his.  Measles  came  through,  and  there  weren't 
more  than  a  dozen  survivors.  He  fed  them, 
and  worked  them,  and  was  king.  Now  before 
the  queen  died  she  gave  birth  to  a  girl.  That's 
Armande.  When  she  was  three  he  sent  her  to 
the  convent  at  Papeete.  When  she  was  seven 
or  eight  he  sent  her  to  France.  You  begin  to 
glimpse  the  situation.  The  best  and  most  aris 
tocratic  convent  in  France  was  none  too  good 
for  the  only  daughter  of  a  Paumotan  island 
king  and  capitalist,  and  you  know  the  old 


292  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

country  French  draw  no  colour  line.  She  was 
educated  like  a  princess,  and  she  accepted  herself 
in  much  the  same  way.  Also,  she  thought 
she  was  all-white,  and  never  dreamed  of  a  bar 
sinister. 

"Now  comes  the  tragedy.  The  old  man  had 
always  been  cranky  and  erratic,  and  he'd  played 
the  despot  on  Hikihoho  so  long  that  he'd  got  the 
idea  in  his  head  that  there  was  nothing  wrong 
with  the  king  —  or  the  princess  either.  When 
Armande  was  eighteen  he  sent  for  her.  He  had 
slews  and  slathers  of  money,  as  Yankee  Bill 
would  say.  He'd  built  the  big  house  on  Hiki 
hoho,  and  a  whacking  fine  bungalow  in  Papeete. 
She  was  to  arrive  on  the  mail  boat  from  New 
Zealand,  and  he  sailed  in  his  schooner  to  meet 
her  at  Papeete.  And  he  might  have  carried 
the  situation  off,  despite  the  hens  and  bull- 
beasts  of  Papeete,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
hurricane.  That  was  the  year,  wasn't  it,  when 
Manu-Huhi  was  swept  and  eleven  hundred 
drowned?" 

The  others  nodded,  and  Captain  Warfield 
said:  "I  was  in  the  Magpie  that  blow,  and  we 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY 

went  ashore,  all  hands  and  the  cook,  Magpie 
and  all,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  into  the  cocoanuts 
at  the  head  of  Taiohae  Bay  —  and  it  a  sup 
posedly  hurricane-proof  harbour." 

"Well,"  Grief  continued,  "old  Parlay  got 
caught  in  the  same  blow,  and  arrived  in  Papeete 
with  his  hatful  of  pearls  three  weeks  too  late. 
He'd  had  to  jack  up  his  schooner  and  build  half 
a  mile  of  ways  before  he  could  get  her  back  into 
the  sea. 

"And  in  the  meantime  there  was  Armande 
at  Papeete.  Nobody  called  on  her.  She  did, 
French  fashion,  make  the  initial  calls  on  the 
Governor  and  the  port  doctor.  They  saw  her, 
but  neither  of  their  hen- wives  was  at  home  to 
her  nor  returned  the  call.  She  was  out  of  caste, 
without  caste,  though  she  had  never  dreamed 
it,  and  that  was  the  gentle  way  they  broke  the 
information  to  her.  There  was  a  gay  young 
lieutenant  on  the  French  cruiser.  He  lost  his 
heart  to  her,  but  not  his  head.  You  can  imagine 
the  shock  to  this  young  woman,  refined,  beau 
tiful,  raised  like  an  aristocrat,  pampered  with 
the  best  of  old  France  that  money  could  buy.  u- 


294  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

And  you  can  guess  the  end."  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "There  was  a  Japanese  servant  in 
the  bungalow.  He  saw  it.  Said  she  did  it 
with  the  proper  spirit  of  the  Samurai.  Took  a 
stiletto  —  no  thrust,  no  drive,  no  wild  rush  for 
annihilation  —  took  the  stiletto,  placed  the  point 
carefully  against  her  heart,  and  with  both  bands, 
slowly  and  steadily,  pressed  home. 

"Old  Parlay  arrived  after  that  with  his 
pearls.  There  was  one  single  one  of  them,  they 
say,  worth  sixty  thousand  francs.  Peter  Gee 
saw  it,  and  has  told  me  he  offered  that  much  for 
it.  The  old  man  went  clean  off  for  a  while. 
They  had  him  strait-jacketed  in  the  Colonial 
Club  two  days " 

"His  wife's  uncle,  an  old  Paumotan,  cut  him 
out  of  the  jacket  and  turned  him  loose,"  the 
supercargo  corroborated. 

"And  then  old  Parlay  proceeded  to  eat  things 
up,"  Grief  went  on.  "Pumped  three  bullets 
into  the  scalawag  of  a  lieutenant - 

"Who  lay  in  sick  bay  for  three  months," 
Captain  Warfield  contributed. 

"Flung  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  Governor's  face; 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY  295 

fought  a  duel  with  the  port  doctor;  beat  up  his 
native  servants;  wrecked  the  hospital;  broke 
two  ribs  and  the  collarbone  of  a  man  nurse,  and 
escaped;  and  went  down  to  his  schooner,  a  gun 
in  each  hand,  daring  the  chief  of  police  and  all 
the  gendarmes  to  arrest  him,  and  sailed  for 
Hikihoho.  And  they  say  he's  never  left  the 
island  since." 

The  supercargo  nodded.  "That  was  fifteen 
years  ago,  and  he's  never  budged." 

"And  added  to  his  pearls,"  said  the  captain. 
"He's  a  blithering  old  lunatic.  Makes  my  flesh 
creep.  He's  a  regular  Finn." 

"  What's  that  ?"  Mulhall  inquired. 

"Bosses  the  weather  —  that's  what  the  na 
tives  believe,  at  any  rate.  Ask  Tai-Hotauri 
there.  Hey,  Tai-Hotauri!  what  you  think  old 
Parlay  do  along  weather?" 

"Just  the  same  one  big  weather  devil,"  came 
the  Kanaka's  answer.  "I  know.  He  want  big 
blow,  he  make  big  blow.  He  want  no  wind, 
no  wind  come." 

"A  regular  old  Warlock,"  said  Mulhall. 

"No   good   luck   them   pearl,"    Tai-Hotauri 


296  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

blurted  out,  rolling  his  head  ominously.  "He 
say  he  sell.  Plenty  schooner  come.  Then  he 
make  big  hurricane,  everybody  finish,  you  see. 
All  native  men  say  so." 

"It's  hurricane  season  now,"  Captain  War- 
field  laughed  morosely.  "They're  not  far  wrong. 
It's  making  for  something  right  now,  and  I'd 
feel  better  if  the  Malahini  was  a  thousand  miles 
away  from  here." 

"He  is  a  bit  mad,"  Grief  concluded.  "I've 
tried  to  get  his  point  of  view.  It's  —  well,  it's 
mixed.  For  eighteen  years  he'd  centred  every 
thing  on  Armande.  Half  the  time  he  believes 
she's  still  alive,  not  yet  come  back  from  France. 
That's  one  of  the  reasons  he  held  on  to  the  pearls. 
And  all  the  time  he  hates  white  men.  He  never 
forgets  they  killed  her,  though  a  great  deal  of 
the  time  he  forgets  she's  dead.  Hello!  Where's 
your  wind?" 

The  sails  bellied  emptily  overhead,  and  Cap 
tain  Warfield  grunted  his  disgust.  Intolerable 
as  the  heat  had  been,  in  the  absence  of  wind  it 
was  almost  overpowering.  The  sweat  oozed  out 
on  all  their  faces,  and  now  one,  and  again  an- 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY  297 

other,  drew  deep  breaths,  involuntarily  quest 
ing  for  more  air. 

"Here  she  comes  again  —  an  eight  point 
haul!  Boom-tackles  across!  Jump!" 

The  Kanakas  sprang  to  the  captain's  orders, 
and  for  five  minutes  the  schooner  laid  directly 
into  the  passage  and  even  gained  on  the  current. 
Again  the  breeze  fell  flat,  then  puffed  from  the 
old  quarter,  compelling  a  shift  back  of  sheets 
and  tackles. 

"  Here  comes  the  Nuhiva,"  Grief  said.  "  She's 
got  her  engine  on.  Look  at  her  skim." 

"All  ready?  "  the  captain  asked  the  engineer,  a 
Portuguese  half-caste,  whose  head  and  shoulders 
protruded  from  the  small  hatch  just  for'ard  of 
the  cabin,  and  who  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
face  with  a  bunch  of  greasy  waste. 

"Sure,"  he  replied. 

"Then  let  her  go." 

The  engineer  disappeared  into  his  den,  and 
a  moment  later  the  exhaust  muffler  coughed 
and  spluttered  overside.  But  the  schooner  could 
not  hold  her  lead.  The  little  cutter  made  three 
feet  to  her  two  and  was  quickly  alongside  and 


298  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

forging  ahead.  Only  natives  were  on  her  deck, 
and  the  man  steering  waved  his  hand  in  derisive 
greeting  and  farewell. 

"That's  Narii  Herring,"  Grief  told  Mulhall. 
"The  big  fellow  at  the  wheel  —  the  nerviest 
and  most  conscienceless  scoundrel  in  the  Pau- 
motus." 

Five  minutes  later  a  cry  of  joy  from  their  own 
Kanakas  centred  all  eyes  on  the  Nuhiva.  Her 
engine  had  broken  down  and  they  were  over 
taking  her.  The  Malahini's  sailors  sprang  into 
the  rigging  and  jeered  as  they  went  by;  the  little 
cutter  heeled  over  by  the  wind  with  a  bone  in  her 
teeth,  going  backward  on  the  tide. 

"Some  engine  that  of  ours,"  Grief  approved, 
as  the  lagoon  opened  before  them  and  the  course 
was  changed  across  it  to  the  anchorage. 

Captain  Warfield  was  visibly  cheered,  though 
he  merely  grunted,  "It'll  pay  for  itself,  never 
fear." 

The  Malahini  ran  well  into  the  centre  of  the 
little  fleet  ere  she  found  swinging  room  to  anchor. 

"There's  Isaacs  on  the  Dolly'9  Grief  observed, 
with  a  hand  wave  of  greeting.  "And  Peter 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     299 

Gee's  on  the  Roberta.  Couldn't  keep  him  away 
from  a  pearl  sale  like  this.  And  there's  Francini 
on  the  Cactus.  They're  all  here,  all  the  buyers. 
Old  Parlay  will  surely  get  a  price." 

"They  haven't  repaired  the  engine  yet,"  Cap 
tain  Warfield  grumbled  gleefully. 

He  was  looking  across  the  lagoon  to  where  the 
Nuhiva's  sails  showed  through  the  sparse  cocoa- 
nuts. 

II 

The  house  of  Parlay  was  a  big  two-story 
frame  affair,  built  of  California  lumber,  with  a 
galvanized  iron  roof.  So  disproportionate  was 
it  to  the  slender  ring  of  the  atoll  that  it  showed 
out  upon  the  sand-strip  and  above  it  like  some 
monstrous  excrescence.  They  of  the  Malahini 
paid  the  courtesy  visit  ashore  immediately  after 
anchoring.  Other  captains  and  buyers  were  in 
the  big  room  examining  the  pearls  that  were  to 
be  auctioned  next  day.  Paumotan  servants, 
natives  of  Hikihoho,  and  relatives  of  the  owner, 
moved  about  dispensing  whiskey  and  absinthe. 
And  through  the  curious  company  moved  Parlay 


300  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

himself,  cackling  and  sneering,  the  withered 
wreck  of  what  had  once  been  a  tall  and  powerful 
man.  His  eyes  were  deep  sunken  and  feverish, 
his  cheeks  fallen  in  and  cavernous.  The  hair 
of  his  head  seemed  to  have  come  out  in  patches, 
and  his  mustache  and  imperial  had  shed  in  the 
same  lopsided  way. 

"Jove!"  Mulhall  muttered  under  his  breath. 
"A  long-legged  Napoleon  the  Third,  but  burnt 
out,  baked,  and  fire-crackled.  And  mangy!  No 
wonder  he  crooks  his  head  to  one  side.  He's  got 
to  keep  the  balance." 

"Coin'  to  have  a  blow,"  was  the  old  man's 
greeting  to  Grief.  "You  must  think  a  lot  of 
pearls  to  come  a  day  like  this." 

"They're  worth  going  to  inferno  for,"  Grief 
laughed  genially  back,  running  his  eyes  over 
the  surface  of  the  table  covered  by  the  dis 
play. 

"Other  men.  have  already  made  that  journey 
for  them,"  old  Parlay  cackled.  "  See  this  one ! " 
He  pointed  to  a  large,  perfect  pearl  the  size  of 
a  small  walnut  that  lay  apart  on  a  piece  of  cham 
ois.  "  They  offered  me  sixty  thousand  francs  for 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY       301 

it  in  Tahiti.  They'll  bid  as  much  and  more  for 
it  to-morrow,  if  they  aren't  blown  away.  Well, 
that  pearl,  it  was  found  by  my  cousin,  my 
cousin  by  marriage.  He  was  a  native,  you  see. 
Also,  he  was  a  thief.  He  hid  it.  It  was  mine. 
His  cousin,  who  was  also  my  cousin  —  we're  all 
related  here  —  killed  him  for  it  and  fled  away 
in  a  cutter  to  Noo-Nau.  I  pursued,  but  the 
chief  of  Noo-Nau  had  killed  him  for  it  before  I 
got  there.  Oh,  yes,  there  are  many  dead  men 
represented  on  the  table  there.  Have  a  drink, 
Captain.  Your  face  is  not  familiar.  You  are 
new  in  the  islands?" 

"It's  Captain  Robinson  of  the  Roberta"  Grief 
said,  introducing  them. 

In  the  meantime  Mulhall  had  shaken  hands 
with  Peter  Gee. 

"I  never  fancied  there  were  so  many  pearls 
in  the  world,"  Mulhall  said. 

"Nor  have  I  ever  seen  so  many  together  at 
one  time,"  Peter  Gee  admitted. 

"What  ought  they  to  be  worth?" 

"Fifty  or  sixty  thousand  pounds  —  and  that's 
to  us  buyers.  In  Paris "  He  shrugged  his 


302  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

shoulders  and  lifted  his  eyebrows  at  the  incom- 
municableness  of  the  sum. 

Mulhall  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  eyes.  All 
were  sweating  profusely  and  breathing  hard. 
There  was  no  ice  in  the  drink  that  was  served, 
and  whiskey  and  absinthe  went  down  luke 
warm. 

;<Yes,  yes,"  Parlay  was  cackling.  "Many 
dead  men  lie  on  the  table  there.  I  know  those 
pearls,  all  of  them.  You  see  those  three! 
Perfectly  matched,  aren't  they?  A  diver  from 
Easter  Island  got  them  for  me  inside  a  week. 
Next  week  a  shark  got  him;  took  his  arm  off  and 
blood  poison  did  the  business.  And  that  big 
baroque  there  —  nothing  much  —  if  I'm  offered 
twenty  francs  for  it  to-morrow  I'll  be  in  luck; 
it  came  out  of  twenty-two  fathoms  of  water. 
The  man  was  from  Raratonga.  He  broke  all 
diving  records.  He  got  it  out  of  twenty-two 
fathoms.  I  saw  him.  And  he  burst  his  lungs 
at  the  same  time,  or  got  the  'bends,'  for  he  died 
in  two  hours.  He  died  screaming.  They  could 
hear  him  for  miles.  He  was  the  most  powerful 
native  I  ever  saw.  Half  a  dozen  of  my  divers 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     303 

have  died  of  the  bends.  And  more  men  will  die, 
more  men  will  die." 

"Oh,  hush  your  croaking,  Parlay,"  chided 
one  of  the  captains.  "It  ain't  going  to 
blow." 

"If  I  was  a  strong  man,  I  couldn't  get  up 
hook  and  get  out  fast  enough,"  the  old  man 
retorted  in  the  falsetto  of  age.  "Not  if  I  was 
a  strong  man  with  the  taste  for  wine  yet  in 
my  mouth.  But  not  you.  You'll  all  stay.  I 
wouldn't  advise  you  if  I  thought  you'd  go. 
You  can't  drive  buzzards  away  from  the 
carrion.  Have  another  drink,  my  brave  sailor- 
men.  Well,  well,,  what  men  will  dare  for  a  few 
little  oyster  drops !  There  they  are,  the  beauties ! 
Auction  to-morrow,  at  ten  sharp.  Old  Parlay's 
selling  out,  and  the  buzzards  are  gathering  — 
old  Parlay  who  was  a  stronger  man  in  his  day 
than  any  of  them  and  who  will  see  most  of  them 
dead  yet." 

"If  he  isn't  a  vile  old  beast!"  the  supercargo 
of  the  Malahini  whispered  to  Peter  Gee. 

"What  if  she  does  blow?"  said  the  captain 
of  the  Dolly.  "Hikihoho's  never  been  swept." 


304  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"The  more  reason  she  will  be,  then,"  Captain 
Warfield  answered  back.  * '  I  wouldn't  trust  her. ' ' 

" Who's  croaking  now?"  Grief  reproved. 

"I'd  hate  to  lose  that  new  engine  before 
it  paid  for  itself,"  Captain  Warfield  replied 
gloomily. 

Parlay  skipped  with  astonishing  nimbleness 
across  the  crowded  room  to  the  barometer  on 
the  wall. 

"Take  a  look,  my  brave  sailormen!"  he  cried 
exultantly. 

The  man  nearest  read  the  glass .  The  sobering 
effect  showed  plainly  on  his  face. 

"It's  dropped  ten,"  was  all  he  said,  yet  every 
face  went  anxious,  and  there  was  a  look  as  if 
every  man  desired  immediately  to  start  for  the 
door. 

"Listen!"  Parlay  commanded. 

In  the  silence  the  outer  surf  seemed  to  have 
become  unusually  loud.  There  was  a  great 
rumbling  roar. 

"A  big  sea  is  beginning  to  set,"  some  one  said; 
and  there  was  a  movement  to  the  windows, 
where  all  gathered. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     305 

Through  the  sparse  cocoanuts  they  gazed 
seaward.  An  orderly  succession  of  huge  smooth 
seas  was  rolling  down  upon  the  coral  shore. 
For  some  minutes  they  gazed  on  the  strange 
sight  and  talked  in  low  voices,  and  in  those  few 
minutes  it  was  manifest  to  all  that  the  waves 
were  increasing  in  size.  It  was  uncanny,  this 
rising  sea  in  a  dead  calm,  and  their  voices  un 
consciously  sank  lower.  Old  Parlay  shocked 
them  with  his  abrupt  cackle. 

"There  is  yet  time  to  get  away  to  sea,  brave 
gentlemen.  You  can  tow  across  the  lagoon  with 
your  whaleboats." 

"It's  all  right,  old  man,"  said  Darling,  the 
mate  of  the  Cactus,  a  stalwart  youngster  of 
twenty-five.  "The  blow's  to  the  southward 
and  passing  on.  We'll  not  get  a  whiff  of 
it." 

An  air  of  relief  went  through  the  room. 
Conversations  were  started,  and  the  voices 
became  louder.  Several  of  the  buyers  even  went 
back  to  the  table  to  continue  the  examination 
of  the  pearls. 

Parlay's  shrill  cackle  rose  higher. 


306  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"That's  right,"  he  encouraged.  "If  the  world 
was  coming  to  an  end  you'd  go  on  buying." 

"We'll  buy  these  to-morrow  just  the  same," 
Isaacs  assured  him. 

"Then  you'll  be  doing  your  buying  in  hell." 

The  chorus  of  incredulous  laughter  incensed 
the  old  man.  He  turned  fiercely  on  Darling. 

"Since  when  have  children  like  you  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  storms?  And  who  is  the  man 
who  has  plotted  the  hurricane-courses  of  the 
Paumotus?  What  books  will  you  find  it  in?  I 
sailed  the  Paumotus  before  the  oldest  of  you 
drew  breath.  I  know.  To  the  eastward  the 
paths  of  the  hurricanes  are  on  so  wide  a  circle 
they  make  a  straight  line.  To  the  westward 
here  they  make  a  sharp  curve.  Remember 
your  chart.  How  did  it  happen  the  hurricane 
of  '91  swept  Auri  and  Hiolau?  The  curve,  my 
brave  boy,  the  curve!  In  an  hour,  or  two  or 
three  at  most,  will  come  the  wind.  Listen  to 
that!" 

A  vast  rumbling  crash  shook  the  coral  founda 
tions  of  the  atoll.  The  house  quivered  to  it. 
The  native  servants,  with  bottles  of  whiskey 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     307 

and  absinthe  in  their  hands,  shrank  together  as 
if  for  protection  and  stared  with  fear  through 
the  windows  at  the  mighty  wash  of  the  wave 
lapping  far  up  the  beach  to  the  corner  of  a  copra- 
shed. 

Parlay  looked  at  the  barometer,  giggled,  and 
leered  around  at  his  guests.  Captain  War- 
field  strode  across  to  see. 

"29:75,"  he  read.  "She's  gone  down  five 
more.  By  God!  the  old  devil's  right.  She's 
a-coming,  and  it's  me,  for  one,  for  aboard." 

"It's  growing  dark,"  Isaacs  half  whispered. 

"Jove!  it's  like  a  stage,"  Mulhall  said  to 
Grief,  looking  at  his  watch.  "Ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  it's  like  twilight.  Down  go 
the  lights  for  the  tragedy.  Where's  the  slow 
music!" 

In  answer,  another  rumbling  crash  shook  the 
atoll  and  the  house.  Almost  in  a  panic  the 
company  started  for  the  door.  In  the  dim 
light  their  sweaty  faces  appeared  ghastly. 
Isaacs  panted  asthmatically  in  the  suffocating 
heat. 

"What's  your  haste?"  Parlay  chuckled  and 


308  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

girded  at  his  departing  guests.  "A  last  drink, 
brave  gentlemen."  No  one  noticed  him.  A£ 
they  took  the  shell-bordered  path  to  the  beach 
he  stuck  his  head  out  the  door  and  called,  "  Don't 
forget,  gentlemen,  at  ten  to-morrow  old  Parlay 

sells  his  pearls." 

Ill 

On  the  beach  a  curious  scene  took  place. 
Whaleboat  after  whaleboat  was  being  hurriedly 
manned  and  shoved  off.  It  had  grown  still 
darker.  The  stagnant  calm  continued,  and 
the  sand  shook  under  their  feet  with  each  buffet 
of  the  sea  on  the  outer  shore.  Narii  Herring 
walked  leisurely  along  the  sand.  He  grinned  at 
the  very  evident  haste  of  the  captains  and 
buyers.  With  him  were  three  of  his  Kanakas, 
and  also  Tai-Hotauri. 

"Get  into  the  boat  and  take  an  oar,"  Captain 
Warfield  ordered  the  latter. 

Tai-Hotauri  came  over  jauntily,  while  Narii 
Herring  and  his  three  Kanakas  paused  and 
looked  on  from  forty  feet  away. 

"I  work  no  more  for  you,  skipper,"  Tai- 
Hotauri  said  insolently  and  loudly.  But  his 


*\11  1 


L 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     309 

face  belied  his  words,  for  he  was  guilty  of  a 
prodigious  wink.  "Fire  me,  skipper,"  he  huskily 
whispered,  with  a  second  significant  wink. 

Captain  Warfield  took  the  cue  and  proceeded 
to  do  some  acting  himself.  He  raised  his  fist 
and  his  voice. 

"Get  into  that  boat,"  he  thundered,  "or  I'll 
knock  seven  bells  out  of  you!" 

The  Kanaka  drew  back  truculently,  and  Grief 
stepped  between  to  placate  his  captain. 

"I  go  to  work  on  the  Nuhiva"  Tai-Hotauri 
said,  rejoining  the  other  group. 

"Come  back  here!"  the  captain  threatened. 

"He's  a  free  man,  skipper,"  Narii  Herring 
spoke  up.  "He's  sailed  with  me  in  the  past, 
and  he's  sailing  again,  that's  all." 

"Come  on,  we  must  get  on  board,"  Grief 
urged.  "Look  how  dark  it's  getting." 

Captain  Warfield  gave  in,  but  as  the  boat 
shoved  off  he  stood  up  in  the  sternsheets  and 
shook  his  fist  ashore. 

"I'll  settle  with  you  yet,  Narii,"  he  cried. 
"You're  the  only  skipper  in  the  group  that  steals 
other  men's  sailors."  He  sat  down,  and  in 


310  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

lowered    voice    queried:     "Now    what's    Tai- 
Hotauri  up  to?     He's  on  to  something,  but  what 

is  it?" 

IV 

As  the  boat  came  alongside  the  Malahini, 
Hermann's  anxious  face  greeted  them  over  the 
rail. 

"Bottom  out  fall  from  barometer,"  he  an 
nounced.  "She's  goin'  to  blow.  I  got  star 
board  anchor  overhaul." 

"Overhaul  the  big  one,  too,"  Captain  War- 
field  ordered,  taking  charge.  "And  here,  some 
of  you,  hoist  in  this  boat.  Lower  her  down  to 
the  deck  and  lash  her  bottom  up." 

Men  were  busy  at  work  on  the  decks  of  all 
the  schooners.  There  was  a  great  clanking  of 
chains  being  overhauled,  and  now  one  craft, 
and  now  another,  hove  in,  veered,  and  dropped 
a  second  anchor.  Like  the  Malahini,  those  that 
had  third  anchors  were  preparing  to  drop  them 
when  the  wind  showed  what  quarter  it  was  to 
blow  from. 

The  roar  of  the  big  surf  continually  grew, 
though  the  lagoon  lay  in  the  mirror-like  calm. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     311 

There  was  no  sign  of  life  where  Parlay's  big 
house  perched  on  the  sand.  Boat  and  copra- 
sheds  and  the  sheds  where  the  shell  was  stored 
were  deserted. 

"For  two  cents  I'd  up  anchors  and  get  out," 
Grief  said.  "I'd  do  it  anyway  if  it  were  open 
sea.  But  those  chains  of  atolls  to  the  north 
and  east  have  us  pocketed.  We've  a  better 
chance  right  here.  What  do  you  think,  Captain 
Warfield?" 

"I  agree  with  you,  though  a  lagoon  is  no  mill- 
pond  for  riding  it  out.  I  wonder  where  she's 
going  to  start  from?  Hello!  There  goes  one 
of  Parlay's  copra-sheds." 

They  could  see  the  grass-thatched  shed  lift 
and  collapse,  while  a  froth  of  foam  cleared  the 
crest  of  the  sand  and  ran  down  to  the  lagoon. 

"Breached  across!"  Mulhall  exclaimed. 
"That's  something  for  a  starter.  There  she 
comes  again!" 

The  wreck  of  the  shed  was  now  flung  up  and 
left  on  the  sand-crest.  A  third  wave  buffeted 
it  into  fragments  which  washed  down  the  slope 
toward  the  lagoon. 


312  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"If  she  blow  I  would  as  be  cooler  yet,"  Her 
mann  grunted.  "No  longer  can  I  breathe.  It 
is  damn  hot.  I  am  dry  like  a  stove." 

He  chopped  open  a  drinking  cocoanut  with 
his  heavy  sheath-knife  and  drained  the  contents. 
The  rest  of  them  followed  his  example,  pausing 
once  to  watch  one  of  Parlay's  shell  sheds  go  down 
in  ruin.  The  barometer  now  registered  29:50. 

"Must  be  pretty  close  to  the  centre  of  the 
area  of  low  pressure,"  Grief  remarked  cheer 
fully.  "I  was  never  through  the  eye  of  a  hurri 
cane  before.  It  will  be  an  experience  for  you, 
too,  Mulhall.  From  the  speed  the  barometer's 
dropped,  it's  going  to  be  a  big  one." 

Captain  Warfield  groaned,  and  all  eyes  drew 
to  him.  He  was  looking  through  the  glasses 
down  the  length  of  the  lagoon  to  the  southeast. 

"There  she  comes,"  he  said  quietly. 

They  did  not  need  glasses  to  see.  A  flying 
film,  strangely  marked,  seemed  drawing  over  the 
surface  of  the  lagoon.  Abreast  of  it,  along  the 
atoll,  travelling  with  equal  speed,  was  a  stiff 
bending  of  the  cocoanut  palms  and  a  blur  of 
flying  leaves.  The  front  of  the  wind  on  the 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     313 

water  was  a  solid,  sharply  defined  strip  of  dark- 
coloured,  wind-vexed  water.  In  advance  of 
this  strip,  like  skirmishers,  were  flashes  of  wind 
flaws.  Behind  this  strip,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in 
width,  was  a  strip  of  what  seemed  glassy  calm. 
Next  came  another  dark  strip  of  wind,  and  be 
hind  that  the  lagoon  was  all  crisping,  boiling 
whiteness. 

"What  is  that  calm  streak?"  Mulhall  asked. 

"Calm,"  Warfield  answered. 

"But  it  travels  as  fast  as  the  wind,"  was  the 
other's  objection. 

"It  has  to,  or  it  would  be  overtaken  and  it 
wouldn't  be  any  calm.  It's  a  double-header. 
I  saw  a  big  squall  like  that  off  Savaii  once.  A 
regular  double-header.  Smash!  it  hit  us,  then 
it  lulled  to  nothing,  and  smashed  us  a  second 
time.  Stand  by  and  hold  on!  Here  she  is  on 
top  of  us.  Look  at  the  Roberta!" 

The  Roberta,  lying  nearest  to  the  wind  at  slack 
chains,  was  swept  off  broadside  like  a  straw. 
Then  her  chains  brought  her  up,  bow  on  to  the 
wind,  with  an  astonishing  jerk.  Schooner  after 
schooner,  the  Malahini  with  them,  was  now 


314  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

sweeping  away  with  the  first  gust  and  fetching 
up  on  taut  chains.  Mulhall  and  several  of  the 
Kanakas  were  taken  off  their  feet  when  the 
Malahini  jerked  to  her  anchors. 

And  then  there  was  no  wind.  The  flying 
calm  streak  had  reached  them.  Grief  lighted  a 
match,  and  the  unshielded  flame  burned  with 
out  flickering  in  the  still  air.  A  very  dim 
twilight  prevailed.  The  cloud-sky,  lowering  as 
it  had  been  for  hours,  seemed  now  to  have 
descended  quite  down  upon  the  sea. 

The  Roberta  tightened  to  her  chains  when  the 
second  head  of  the  hurricane  hit,  as  did  schooner 
after  schooner  in  swift  succession.  The  sea,  white 
with  fury,  boiled  in  tiny,  spitting  wavelets.  The 
deck  of  the  Malahini  vibrated  under  the  men's 
feet.  The  taut-stretched  halyards  beat  a  tattoo 
against  the  masts,  and  all  the  rigging,  as  if  smote 
by  some  mighty  hand,  set  up  a  wild  thrumming. 
It  was  impossible  to  face  the  wind  and  breathe. 
Mulhall,  crouching  with  the  others  behind  the 
shelter  of  the  cabin,  discovered  this,  and  his 
lungs  were  filled  in  an  instant  with  so  great  a 
volume  of  driven  air  which  he  could  not  expel 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     315 

that  he  nearly  strangled  ere  he  could  turn  his 
head  away. 

"It's  incredible,"  he  gasped,  but  no  one  heard 
him. 

Hermann  and  several  Kanakas  were  crawling 
for'ard  on  hands  and  knees  to  let  go  the  third 
anchor.  Grief  touched  Captain  Warfield  and 
pointed  to  the  Roberta.  She  was  dragging  down 
upon  them.  Warfield  put  his  mouth  to  Grief's 
ear  and  shouted: 

"We're  dragging,  too!" 

Grief  sprang  to  the  wheel  and  put  it  hard  over, 
veering  the  Malahini  to  port.  The  third  anchor 
took  hold,  and  the  Roberta  went  by,  stern-first, 
a  dozen  yards  away.  They  waved  their  hands 
to  Peter  Gee  and  Captain  Robinson,  who,  with 
a  number  of  sailors,  were  at  work  on  the  bow. 

"He's  knocking  out  the  shackles!"  Grief 
shouted.  "Going  to  chance  the  passage!  Got 
to!  Anchors  skating!" 

"We're  holding  now!"  came  the  answering 
shout.  "There  goes  the  Cactus  down  on  the 
Misi.  That  settles  them!" 

The  Misi  had  been  holding,  but  the  added 


316  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

windage  of  the  Cactus  was  too  much,  and  the 
entangled  schooners  slid  away  across  the  boiling 
white.  Their  men  could  be  seen  chopping  and 
fighting  to  get  them  apart.  The  Roberta,  cleared 
of  her  anchors,  with  a  patch  of  tarpaulin  set 
forward,  was  heading  for  the  passage  at  the 
northwestern  end  of  the  lagoon.  They  saw  her 
make  it  and  drive  out  to  sea.  But  the  Misi  and 
Cactus,  unable  to  get  clear  of  each  other,  went 
ashore  on  the  atoll  half  a  mile  from  the  passage. 
The  wind  merely  increased  on  itself  and  con 
tinued  to  increase.  To  face  the  full  blast  of  it 
required  all  one's  strength,  and  several  minutes 
of  crawling  on  deck  against  it  tired  a  man  to 
exhaustion.  Hermann,  with  his  Kanakas,  plod 
ded  steadily,  lashing  and  making  secure,  put 
ting  ever  more  gaskets  on  the  sails.  The  wind 
ripped  and  tore  their  thin  undershirts  from 
their  backs.  They  moved  slowly,  as  if  their 
bodies  weighed  tons,  never  releasing  a  hand-hold 
until  another  had  been  secured.  Loose  ends 
of  rope  stood  out  stiffly  horizontal,  and,  when 
a  whipping  gave,  the  loose  end  frazzled  and 
blew  away. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     317 

Mulhall  touched  one  and  then  another  and 
pointed  to  the  shore.  The  grass-sheds  had  dis 
appeared,  and  Parlay's  house  rocked  drunkenly. 
Because  the  wind  blew  lengthwise  along  the 
atoll,  the  house  had  been  sheltered  by  the  miles 
of  cocoanut  trees.  But  the  big  seas,  breaking 
across  from  outside,  were  undermining  it  and 
hammering  it  to  pieces.  Already  tilted  down 
the  slope  of  sand,  its  end  was  imminent.  Here 
and  there  in  the  cocoanut  trees  people  had  lashed 
themselves.  The  trees  did  not  sway  or  thresh 
about.  Bent  over  rigidly  from  the  wind,  they 
remained  in  that  position  and  vibrated  mon 
strously.  Underneath,  across  the  sand,  surged 
the  white  spume  of  the  breakers. 

A  big  sea  was  likewise  making  down  the 
length  of  the  lagoon.  It  had  plenty  of  room  to 
kick  up  in  the  ten-mile  stretch  from  the  wind 
ward  rim  of  the  atoll,  and  all  the  schooners 
were  bucking  and  plunging  into  it.  The  Mala- 
hini  had  begun  shoving  her  bow  and  fo'c'sle 
head  under  the  bigger  ones,  and  at  times  her 
waist  was  filled  rail-high  with  water. 

"Now's   the   time   for  your  engine!"   Grief 


318  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

bellowed;  and  Captain  Warfield,  crawling  over 
to  where  the  engineer  lay,  shouted  emphatic 
commands. 

Under  the  engine,  going  full  speed  ahead, 
the  Malahini  behaved  better.  While  she  con 
tinued  to  ship  seas  over  her  bow,  she  was  not 
jerked  down  so  fiercely  by  her  anchors.  On 
the  other  hand,  she  was  unable  to  get  any  slack 
in  the  chains.  The  best  her  forty  horsepower 
could  do  was  to  ease  the  strain. 

Still  the  wind  increased.  The  little  Nuhiva, 
lying  abreast  of  the  Malahini  and  closer  in  to  the 
beach,  her  engine  still  unrepaired  and  her 
captain  ashore,  was  having  a  bad  time  of  it. 
She  buried  herself  so  frequently  and  so  deeply 
that  they  wondered  each  time  if  she  could  clear 
herself  of  the  water.  At  three  in  the  afternoon, 
buried  by  a  second  sea  before  she  could  free 
herself  of  the  preceding  one,  she  did  not  come  up. 

Mulhall  looked  at  Grief. 

"Burst  in  her  hatches,"  was  the  bellowed  an 
swer. 

Captain  Warfield  pointed  to  the  Winifred, 
a  little  schooner  plunging  and  burying  outside 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     319 

of  them,  and  shouted  in  Grief's  ear.  His  voice 
came  in  patches  of  dim  words,  with  intervals 
of  silence  when  whisked  away  by  the  roaring 
wind. 

"Rotten  little  tub  .  .  .  Anchors  hold 
.  .  .  But  how  she  holds  together  .  .  . 
Old  as  the  ark-  -" 

An  hour  later  Hermann  pointed  to  her.  Her 
for'ard  bitts,  foremast,  and  most  of  her  bow 
were  gone,  having  been  jerked  out  of  her  by  her 
anchors.  She  swung  broadside,  rolling  in  the 
trough  and  settling  by  the  head,  and  in  this 
plight  was  swept  away  to  leeward. 

Five  vessels  now  remained,  and  of  them  the 
Malahini  was  the  only  one  with  an  engine. 
Fearing  either  the  Nuhiva's  or  the  WinifdrecTs 
fate,  two  of  them  followed  the  Roberta's  example, 
knocking  out  the  chain-shackles  and  running 
for  the  passage.  The  Dolly  was  the  first,  but 
her  tarpaulin  was  carried  away,  and  she  went 
to  destruction  on 'the  lee-rim  of  the  atoll  near 
the  M isi  and  the  Cactus.  Undeterred  by  this, 
the  Moana  let  go  and  followed  with  the  same 
result. 


320  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Pretty  good  engine  that,  eh?"  Captain  War- 
field  yelled  to  his  owner. 

Grief  put  out  his  hand  and  shook.  "She's 
paying  for  herself!"  he  yelled  back.  "The 
wind's  shifting  around  to  the  south'ard,  and 
we  ought  to  lie  easier!" 

Slowly  and  steadily,  but  with  ever-increasing 
velocity,  the  wind  veered  around  to  the  south 
and  the  southwest,  till  the  three  schooners  that 
were  left  pointed  directly  in  toward  the  beach. 
The  wreck  of  Parlay's  house  was  picked  up, 
hurled  into  the  lagoon,  and  blown  out  upon 
them.  Passing  the  Malahini,  it  crashed  into  the 
Papara,  lying  a  quarter  of  a  mile  astern.  There 
was  wild  work  for'ard  on  her,  and  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  house  went  clear,  but  it  had 
taken  the  Papara's  foremast  and  bowsprit  with 
it. 

Inshore,  on  their  port  bow,  lay  the  Tahaa, 
slim  and  yacht-like,  but  excessively  oversparred. 
Her  anchors  still  held,  but  her  captain,  finding 
no  abatement  in  the  wind,  proceeded  to  reduce 
windage  by  chopping  down  his  masts. 

"Pretty  good  engine  that,"  Grief  congratu- 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     321 

lated  his  skipper.  "It  will  save  our  sticks  for 
us  yet." 

Captain  Warn" eld  shook  bis  head  dubiously. 

The  '  3a  on  the  lagoon  went  swiftly  down  with 
the  change  of  wind,  but  they  were  beginning 
to  feel  the  heave  and  lift  of  the  outer  sea  break 
ing  across  the  atoll.  There  were  not  so  many 
trees  remaining.  Some  had  been  broken  short 
off,  others  uprooted.  One  tree  they  saw  snap 
off  halfway  up,  three  persons  clinging  to  it, 
and  whirl  away  by  the  wind  into  the  lagoon. 
Two  detached  themselves  from  it  and  swam 
to  the  Tahaa.  Not  long  after,  just  before 
darkness,  they  saw  one  jump  overboard  from 
that  schooner's  stern  and  strike  out  strongly 
for  the  Malahini  through  the  white,  spitting 
wavelets. 

"It's  Tai-Hotauri,"  was  Grief's  judgment. 
"Now  we'll  have  the  news." 

The  Kanaka  caught  the  bobstay,  climbed  over 
the  bow,  and  crawled  aft.  Time  was  given  him 
to  breathe,  and  then,  behind  the  part  shelter 
of  the  cabin,  in  broken  snatches  and  largely  by 
signs,  he  told  his  story. 


322  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Narii  .  .  .  damn  robber  ...  He 
want  steal  .  .  .  pearls  .  .  .  Kill  Par 
lay  ...  One  man  kill  Parlay  ...  No 
man  know  what  man  .  .  .  Three  Kanakas, 
Narii,  me  .  .  .  Five  beans  .  .  .  hat 
.  .  .  Narii  say  one  bean  black  .  .  .  No 
body  know  .  .  .  Kill  Parlay  .  .  .  Narii 
damn  liar  .  .  .  All  beans  black  .  .  . 
Five  black  .  .  .  Copra-shed  dark  .  .  . 
Every  man  get  black  bean  .  .  .  Big  wind 
come  .  .  .  No  chance  .  .  .  Everybody 
get  up  tree  .  .  .  No  good  luck  them  pearls, 
I  tell  you  before  .  .  .  No  good  luck." 

"Where's  Parlay?"  Grief  shouted. 

"Up  tree  .  .  .  Three  of  his  Kanakas  same 
tree.  Narii  and  one  Kanaka  'nother  tree  .  .  . 
My  tree  blow  to  hell,  then  I  come  on  board." 

"Where's  the  pearls?" 

"Up  tree  along  Parlay.  Mebbe  Narii  get 
them  pearl  yet." 

In  the  ear  of  one  after  another  Grief  passed  on 
Tai-Hotauri's  story.  Captain  Warfield  was  par 
ticularly  incensed,  and  they  could  see  him  grind 
ing  his  teeth. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     323 

Hermann  went  below  and  returned  with  a 
riding  light,  but  the  moment  it  was  lifted  above 
the  level  of  the  cabin  wall  the  wind  blew  it  out. 
He  had  better  success  with  the  binnacle  lamp, 
which  was  lighted  only  after  many  collective 
attempts. 

"A  fine  night  of  wind!"  Grief  yelled  in  Mul- 
halPs  ear.  "And  blowing  harder  all  the 
time." 

"How  hard?" 

"A  hundred  miles  an  hour  .  .  .  two  hun 
dred  ...  I  don't  know  .  .  .  Harder 
than  I've  ever  seen  it." 

The  lagoon  grew  more  and  more  troubled  by 
the  sea  that  swept  across  the  atoll.  Hundreds 
of  leagues  of  ocean  was  being  backed  up  by  the 
hurricane,  which  more  than  overcame  the  lower 
ing  effect  of  the  ebb  tide.  Immediately  the  tide 
began  to  rise  the  increase  in  the  size  of  the  seas 
was  noticeable.  Moon  and  wind  were  heaping 
the  South  Pacific  on  Hikihoho  atoll. 

Captain  Warfield  returned  from  one  of  his 
periodical  trips  to  the  engine  room  with  the 
word  that  the  engineer  lay  in  a  faint. 


324  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

"Can't  let  that  engine  stop!"  he  concluded 
helplessly. 

"All  right ! "  Grief  said.  " Bring  him  on  deck. 
I'll  spell  him." 

The  hatch  to  the  engine  room  was  battened 
down,  access  being  gained  through  a  narrow 
passage  from  the  cabin.  The  heat  and  gas 
fumes  were  stifling.  Grief  took  one  hasty, 
comprehensive  examination  of  the  engine  and 
the  fittings  of  the  tiny  room,  then  blew  out  the 
oil-lamp.  After  that  he  worked  in  darkness, 
save  for  the  glow  from  endless  cigars  which  he 
went  into  the  cabin  to  light.  Even-tempered 
as  he  was,  he  soon  began  to  give  evidences  of 
the  strain  of  being  pent  in  with  a  mechanical 
monster  that  toiled,  and  sobbed,  and  slubbered 
in  the  shouting  dark.  Naked  to  the  waist,  cov 
ered  with  grease  and  oil,  bruised  and  skinned 
from  being  knocked  about  by  the  plunging, 
jumping  vessel,  his  head  swimming  from  the 
mixture  of  gas  and  air  he  was  compelled  to 
breathe,  he  laboured  on  hour  after  hour,  in  turns 
petting,  blessing,  nursing,  and  cursing  the 
engine  and  all  its  parts.  The  ignition  began 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     325 

to  go  bad.  The  feed  grew  worse.  And  worst 
of  all,  the  cylinders  began  to  heat.  In  a 
consultation  held  in  the  cabin  the  half-caste 
engineer  begged  and  pleaded  to  stop  the  engine 
for  half  an  hour  in  order  to  cool  it  and  to  attend 
to  the  water  circulation.  Captain  Warfield  was 
against  any  stopping.  The  half-caste  swore  that 
the  engine  would  ruin  itself  and  stop  anyway  and 
for  good.  Grief,  with  glaring  eyes,  greasy  and 
battered,  yelled  and  cursed  them  both  down 
and  issued  commands.  Mulhall,  the  supercargo, 
and  Hermann  were  set  to  work  in  the  cabin  at 
double-straining  and  triple-straining  the  gaso 
line.  A  hole  was  chopped  through  the  engine 
room  floor,  and  a  Kanaka  heaved  bilge-water 
over  the  cylinders,  while  Grief  continued  to 
souse  running  parts  in  oil. 

"Didn't  know  you  were  a  gasoline  expert," 
Captain  Warfield  admired  when  Grief  came  into 
the  cabin  to  catch  a  breath  of  little  less  impure 
air. 

"I  bathe  in  gasoline,"  he  grated  savagely 
through  his  teeth.  "I  eat  it." 

What  other  uses  he  might  have  found  for  it 


326  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

were  never  given,  for  at  that  moment  all  the 
men  in  the  cabin,  as  well  as  the  gasoline  being 
strained,  were  smashed  for'ard  against  the  bulk 
head  as  the  Malahini  took  an  abrupt,  deep 
dive.  For  the  space  of  several  minutes,  unable 
to  gain  their  feet,  they  rolled  back  and  forth 
and  pounded  and  hammered  from  wall  to  wall. 
The  schooner,  swept  by  three  big  seas,  creaked 
and  groaned  and  quivered,  and  from  the  weight 
of  water  on  her  decks  behaved  logily.  Grief 
crept  to  the  engine,  while  Captain  Warfield 
waited  his  chance  to  get  through  the  companion- 
way  and  out  on  deck. 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  he  came  back. 

"  Whaleboat's  gone ! "  he  reported.  "  Galley's 
gone!  Everything  gone  except  the  deck  and 
hatches!  And  if  that  engine  hadn't  been  going 
we'd  be  gone!  Keep  up  the  good  work!" 

By  midnight  the  engineer's  lungs  and  head 
had  been  sufficiently  cleared  of  gas  fumes  to  let 
him  relieve  Grief,  who  went  on  deck  to  get  his 
own  head  and  lungs  clear.  He  joined  the  others, 
who  crouched  behind  the  cabin,  holding  on  with 
their  hands  and  made  doubly  secure  by  rope- 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     327 

lashings.  It  was  a  complicated  huddle,  for  it 
was  the  only  place  of  refuge  for  the  Kanakas. 
Some  of  them  had  accepted  the  skipper's  in 
vitation  into  the  cabin  but  had  been  driven  out 
by  the  fumes.  The  Malahini  was  being  plunged 
down  and  swept  frequently,  and  what  they 
breathed  was  air  and  spray  and  water  com 
mingled. 

"  Making  heavy  weather  of  it,  Mulhall ! "  Grief 
shouted  to  his  guest  between  immersions. 

Mulhall,  strangling  and  choking,  could  only 
nod.  The  scuppers  could  not  carry  off  the 
burden  of  water  on  the  schooner's  deck.  She 
rolled  it  out  and  took  it  in  over  one  rail  and  the 
other;  and  at  times,  nose  thrown  skyward,  sitting 
down  on  her  heel,  she  avalanched  it  aft.  It 
surged  along  the  poop  gangways,  poured  over  the 
top  of  the  cabin,  submerging  and  bruising  those 
that  clung  on,  and  went  out  over  the  stern- 
rail. 

Mulhall  saw  him  first,  and  drew  Grief's  atten 
tion.  It  was  Narii  Herring,  crouching  and 
holding  on  where  the  dim  binnacle  light  shone 
upon  him.  He  was  quite  naked,  save  for  a  belt 


328  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

and  a  bare-bladed  knife  thrust  between  it  and 
the  skin. 

Captain  Warfield  untied  his  lashings  and  made 
his  way  over  the  bodies  of  the  others.  When 
his  face  became  visible  in  the  light  from  the 
binnacle  it  was  working  with  anger.  They  could 
see  him  speak,  but  the  wind  tore  the  sound 
away.  He  would  not  put  his  lips  to  Narii's 
ear.  Instead,  he  pointed  over  the  side.  Narii 
Herring  understood.  His  white  teeth  showed 
in  an  amused  and  sneering  smile,  and  he  stood 
up,  a  magnificent  figure  of  a  man. 

"It's  murder!"  Mulhall  yelled  to  Grief. 

"He'd  have  murdered  Old  Parlay!"  Grief 
yelled  back. 

For  the  moment  the  poop  was  clear  of  water 
and  the  Malahini  on  an  even  keel.  Narii  made 
a  bravado  attempt  to  walk  to  the  rail,  but  was 
flung  down  by  the  wind.  Thereafter  he  crawled, 
disappearing  in  the  darkness,  though  there  was 
certitude  in  all  of  them  that  he  had  gone  over  the 
side.  The  Malahini  dived  deep,  and  when  they 
emerged  from  the  flood  that  swept  aft,  Grief 
got  Mulhall's  ear. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY  329 

"Can't  lose  him!  He's  the  Fish  Man  of 
Tahiti!  He'll  cross  the  lagoon  and  land  on  the 
other  rim  of  the  atoll  if  there's  any  atoll  left!" 

Five  minutes  afterward,  in  another  submer 
gence,  a  mess  of  bodies  poured  down  on  them 
over  the  top  of  the  cabin.  These  they  seized 
and  held  till  the  water  cleared,  when  they  carried 
them  below  and  learned  their  identity.  Old 
Parlay  lay  on  his  back  on  the  floor,  with  closed 
eyes  and  without  movement.  The  other  two 
were  his  Kanaka  cousins.  All  three  were  naked 
and  bloody.  The  arm  of  one  Kanaka  hung  help 
less  and  broken  at  his  side.  The  other  man  bled 
freely  from  a  hideous  scalp  wound. 

"Narii  did  that?"  Mulhall  demanded. 

Grief  shook  his  head.  "No;  it's  from  being 
smashed  along  the  deck  and  over  the  house!" 

Something  suddenly  ceased,  leaving  them  in 
dizzying  uncertainty.  For  the  moment  it  was 
hard  to  realize  there  was  no  wind.  With  the 
absolute  abruptness  of  a  sword  slash,  the  wind 
had  been  chopped  off.  The  schooner  rolled  and 
plunged,  fetching  up  on  her  anchors  with  a  crash 
which  for  the  first  time  they  could  hear.  Also, 


330  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

for  the  first  time  they  could  hear  the  water  wash 
ing  about  on  deck.  The  engineer  threw  off  the 
propeller  and  eased  the  engine  down. 

"We're  in  the  dead  centre,"  Grief  said.  "Now 
for  the  shift.  It  will  come  as  hard  as  ever"  He 
looked  at  the  barometer.  "29:32,"  he  read. 

Not  in  a  moment  could  he  tone  down  the  voice 
which  for  hours  had  battled  against  the  wind, 
and  so  loudly  did  he  speak  that  in  the  quiet  it 
hurt  the  others'  ears. 

"All  his  ribs  are  smashed,"  the  supercargo 
said,  feeling  along  Parlay's  side.  "He's  still 
breathing,  but  he's  a  goner." 

Old  Parlay  groaned,  moved  one  arm  impo- 
tently,  and  opened  his  eyes.  In  them  was  the 
light  of  recognition. 

"My  brave  gentlemen,"  he  whispered  halt 
ingly.  "Don't  forget  .  .  .  the  auction 
.  .  .  at  ten  o'clock  ...  in  hell." 

His  eyes  dropped  shut  and  the  lower  jaw 
threatened  to  drop,  but  he  mastered  the  qualms 
of  dissolution  long  enough  to  omit  one  final, 
loud,  derisive  cackle. 

Above  and  below  pandemonium  broke  out. 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     331 

The  old  familiar  roar  of  the  wind  was  with  them. 
The  Malahini,  caught  broadside,  was  pressed 
down  almost  on  her  beam  ends  as  she  swung  the 
arc  compelled  by  her  anchors.  They  rounded 
her  into  the  wind,  where  she  jerked  to  an  even 
keel.  The  propeller  was  thrown  on,  and  the 
engine  took  up  its  work  again. 

" Northwest!"  Captain  Warfield  shouted  to 
Grief  when  he  came  on  deck.  "Hauled  eight 
points  like  a  shot!" 

"Narii'll  never  get  across  the  lagoon  now!" 
Grief  observed. 

"Then  he'll  blow  back  to  our  side,  worse 

luck!" 

V 

After  the  passing  of  the  centre  the  barometer 
began  to  rise.  Equally  rapid  was  the  fall  of 
the  wind.  When  it  was  no  more  than  a  howling 
gale,  the  engine  lifted  up  in  the  air,  parted  its 
bed-plates  with  a  last  convulsive  effort  of  its 
forty  horsepower,  and  lay  down  on  its  side.  A 
wash  of  water  from  the  bilge  sizzled  over  it 
and  the  steam  arose  in  clouds.  The  engineer 
wailed  his  dismay,  but  Grief  glanced  over  the 


332  A  SON  OF  THE  SUN 

wreck  affectionately  and  went  into  the  cabin 
to  swab  the  grease  off  his  chest  and  arms  with 
bunches  of  cotton  waste. 

"^Wii--- 

The  sun  was  up  and  the  gentlest  of  summer 
breezes  blowing  when  he  came  on  deck,  after 
sewing  up  the  scalp  of  one  Kanaka  and  setting 
the  other's  arm.  The  Malahini  lay  close  in  to 
the  beach.  For'ard,  Hermann  and  the  crew 
were  heaving  in  and  straightening  out  the  tangle 
of  anchors.  The  Papara  and  the  Tahaa  were 
gone,  and  Captain  Warfield,  through  the  glasses, 
was  searching  the  opposite  rim  of  the  atoll. 

" Not  a  stick  left  of  them,"  he  said.  "That's 
what  comes  of  not  having  engines.  They  must 
have  dragged  across  before  the  big  shift  came." 

Ashore,  where  Parlay's  house  had  been,  was 
no  vestige  of  any  house.  For  the  space  of  three 
hundred  yards,  where  the  sea  had  breached,  no 
tree  or  even  stump  was  left.  Here  and  there, 
farther  along,  stood  an  occasional  palm,  and 
there  were  numbers  which  had  been  snapped  off 
above  the  ground.  In  the  crown  of  one  surviving 
palm  Tai-Hotauri  asserted  he  saw  something 
move.  There  were  no  boats  left  to  the  Malahini, 


THE  PEARLS  OF  PARLAY     333 

and  they  watched  him  swim  ashore  and  climb 
the  tree. 

When  he  came  back,  they  helped  over  the  rail 
a  young  native  girl  of  Parley's  household.  But 
first  she  passed  up  to  them  a  battered  basket. 
In  it  was  a  litter  of  blind  kittens  —  all  dead  save 
one,  that  feebly  mewed  and  staggered  on  awk 
ward  legs. 

"Hello!"  said  Mulhall.     "Who's  that?" 

Along  the  beach  they  saw  a  man  walking.  He 
moved  casually,  as  if  out  for  a  morning  stroll. 
Captain  Warfield  gritted  his  teeth.  It  was 
Narii  Herring. 

"Hello,  skipper!"  Narii  called,  when  he  was 
abreast  of  them.  "Can  I  come  aboard  and  get 
some  breakfast?  " 

Captain  Warfield's  face  and  neck  began  to 
swell  and  turn  purple.  He  tried  to  speak,  but 
choked. 

"For  two  cents  —  for  two  cents  - — -"  was  all 
he  could  manage  to  articulate. 

THE   END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


PEB  13197183 

_. 

REC'D  ID 


LD2lA-60m-3,'70 
(N5382slO)476-A-32 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDSSDbfc^DT 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


